


Intimate Encounters

by Everything_Everything



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: All of My Weird Ideas in One Place, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Overstimulation, Switch Vegeta, There Will Be a Lot of Vegeta Pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-08-07 19:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16414601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everything_Everything/pseuds/Everything_Everything
Summary: Formerly known as "Vegeta-Centric Drabbles." Huge thanks to theAsh0 for the title idea!I will be uploading random one/two shots for Vegeta pairings I've had floating around in my head, since probably 2007. I'll try to make each as long as the other to not cheat a pairing, but no promises! Hope you all enjoy!





	1. Whis x Vegeta Pt I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whis accepts Vegeta as his apprentice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!!!
> 
> So, every chapter will not have smut. I will try to write the stories for those who don't really read smut, but like a flirty atmosphere and put a separate chapter up with the smut in it. FYI the smut chapter is a continuation of the previous chapter, not the chapter rewritten with smut incorporated. Also, this helps for those people who are curious about a pairing, but don't want to read smut about them lol
> 
> Enjoy!

Whis chuckled to himself at the spectacle being performed before him. He was just spending the day with a new friend, when he was suddenly approached by the very stout prince of all Saiyajins. He demanded to be brought to Lord Beerus, as he was apparently significantly stronger than the last time they had a match. Whis didn’t understand the rush, as the God of Destruction didn’t normally show mercy to his targets; Vegeta should really use his time wisely. However, the fire he saw burning in those ebony orbs reminded him of a certain God of Destruction.

It didn’t surprise Whis in the least when the prince asked to be trained after finding out his history with Lord Beerus. It was bold, however that flame stirred something within him he had only ever felt for one other person. Angels and gods are born with soulmates. It is that particular partner that an angel then trains to take their rightful place as a god. There has never been a recording of an angel with more than one soulmate, but Whis was willing to be that test subject if it meant kindling that fire.

So here he was, being waited on by royalty a second time. The prince was struggling with the dish he was attempting to prepare and kept crushing all of the eggs. Whis held a delicate hand over his mouth in respect to the amount of effort being put into his meal. However, he could see that this meal was not going to be “Earth’s finest,” as Vegeta had so eloquently put it. It was amazing, the lengths Vegeta would go to for more power. Whis couldn’t help wondering in what other aspects of his life was he as greedy for power?

In his daydreaming, Whis had missed where the sudden cup of piping hot goodness had come from. Vegeta was staring at him expectantly, almost childlike in his anticipation. Once he’d taken a bite of the cup of noodles, Whis knew he would be taking home a new soulmate. There was nothing better in the entire universe - to his knowledge. With this incentive, he was sure Lord Beerus would not complain about the company. So Whis accepted Vegeta’s request to train him and prepared him a place to stay.

The first week of training was strictly business, Whis not wanting to insult the prince by giving the perception he only invited Vegeta for his services. No. Whis had encountered many candidates who wished to challenge this God of Destruction, yet none were as longsuffering for the simple feat of a win as Vegeta. Another full-blooded Saiyajin came to mind with that thought, and Whis had to retract that statement. There was someone else, but something about the prince was different. Perhaps it was the thirst for dominance that likened Vegeta to Lord Beerus, in his eyes. Who knew?

But, as the week was far spent and Vegeta became accustomed to life in the realm of the gods, Whis deduced he could make his move. By this time, Lord Beerus was well into his food-induced catnap and Vegeta was cleaning up the table the lord had feasted upon. Seeing the well-sculpted bum of a warrior bent over the table, as the owner scrubbed vigorously, gave Whis a wonderful idea. He wanted to be as forward as possible about his intentions, without being too crass. And this method would confirm his own suspicions about Vegeta.

A warm presence loomed just above the Saiyajin wiping up some spilled milk, causing him to instinctively stiffen up.

“Let me help you with that,” Whis’ velvety voice tickled his ear, as a large blue hand covered his own. “Your arms must be sore after balancing those anvil with the tips of your fingers.”

Vegeta slapped the hand away and just barely caught himself from reflexively backing into the form standing just behind him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He growled out.

A teasing smirk pulled at Whis’ lips and he planted his palm flat on the table, successfully gluing the front of his torso against Vegeta’s backside. “Surely you didn’t believe the gods and their angels to be celibate beings, hn?”

Vegeta’s elbow made a swooshing sound as it whirled through the air. His breathing was heavy as he tried to restrain the scream in his throat. The last thing he wanted to do was awaken the sleeping god. However, he wasn’t about to let this creep get away with such arrogance! Whis was levitating a few paces away, gazing at the volatile prince. Vegeta kept a defensive stance should the angel make any sudden movements.

“I’m not looking down on you, Vegeta, nor do I mean to insinuate any ulterior motives for you being here. As I’ve told you, I will train you to obtain the same power of a god.” Whis tilted his head with a smile. “Believe it or not, this is just another form of training. Can you remain level-headed and in control even through a challenge?”

“Do you really think I’m that gullible?” Vegeta hissed, squeezing his hands into tighter fists. He would not stand to be mocked.

“It is only an offer. Not all training is painful or torturous.” He apparated his staff into his hand turned his back to Vegeta. “If you ever wish to try it out, just say the word.”

*****

Whis waited patiently for his Saiyajin counterpart to ponder over this novel idea, however he had no idea how resilient the young warrior could be. It has been several weeks since that conversation and curiosity hadn’t even led Vegeta to ask not one question regarding the topic. The angel began to wonder if his presumptions about Vegeta was wrong. He could have sworn the prince would accept the training to see if it truly improved his abilities.

Whis had not been lying when he admitted the reasons for such a method. Lord Beerus had given up on mastering this technique, as he only wanted to be pleasured in the end. It’s why the god’s fuse is so short. But with Vegeta, he could definitely see the warrior benefitting from this type of training. Vegeta’s physical techniques were very controlled, down to the very last exhale that signals the end of a battle. His mental stability, on the other hand, was one that Whis desired to strengthen - even more so than what has been witnessed over the years. Vegeta has great willpower over his thoughts and actions, except when his suppressed emotions finally erupt.

It was truly beautiful to watch the man lose control over the earth woman, Bulma, after Lord Beerus had laid a hand upon her beautiful face. If he could learn to harness all of that emotional turmoil into raw unbridled energy, it would be the most breathtaking sight. Of course, Whis did not wish to cause his apprentice sorrow, so controlling a similarly powerful emotion, like peak arousal, would have to suffice.

The day was far spent, and Vegeta had just finished mowing the terrain of the entire planet. He was stretching in preparation for their routine training regimen, however Whis decided he was done waiting for Vegeta to make the next move.

“I think we should try a new form of training today.” He declared, gazing down at the pretzeled Saiyajin.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, inquiring for an elaboration on what he meant. Whis gingerly removed his cloak, unzipping the turtleneck and drooped his shoulders, allowing the material to fall off his shoulders.

“Perhaps you’ve thought about my offer and wish to engage?” Whis questioned, with a hopeful lilt in his tone.

Vegeta gave him a hard look, elbows still pressed to the ground as he sat in a straddle.. “Sorry, but I think you’ve forgotten I have a wife whom I’m contentedly living my days out with.”

Whis hid a smile behind his hand. “I’m never one to betray a good friend. Bulma has been made aware of the circumstances, saying, and I quote, ‘good, maybe then he’ll gain some confidence back.’”

Remembering the last time he’d shared a bed with his wife. It had left her bedridden for a day and a half. She’d said she was ready for another round a week later, but Vegeta didn’t think her frail body had yet to recover. Of course, Bulma being Bulma would overanalyze his actions as fear of losing control a second time. He was beginning to regret not fucking the woman’s brains out before setting off. A long sigh escaped him, as he laid his forehead on the ground. A few beats passing before he decided to respond.

“If I don’t feel any different after this ‘training,’ I’m castrating your dick and offering it up as a sacrifice to Lord Beerus.” Vegeta threatened without lifting his head.

“If this doesn’t work, you have my permission to try.” Whis replied, cheekily.


	2. Whis x Vegeta (Pt I Continued)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta takes Whis up on his offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT SMUT SMUT This chapter! If it ain't your thing for this pairing, see you at the next update :)

Vegeta wasn’t quite sure how this was going to work. To say he hadn’t thought about the possibility would have been a lie. Whis had appeared solemn in his explanation, after that odd occurrence over two months ago. Vegeta really couldn’t find a reason why Whis would bother asking if he truly wished him harm. The angel was laughably stronger than him and there wouldn’t be anything or anyone that could come against him. So the consideration of asking did not go unnoticed by the prince.

Whis had teleported them to a venue unbeknownst to Vegeta. It was the angel’s living quarters and very cozy. Vegeta’s nose picked up several scents at once, swooning at the attack on his senses. He shook his head almost violently and felt Whis place a steadying hand at the small of his back.

“I burn scents of my favorite delicacies across the universe to help me relax.” He put out the flames lined up along the display table and vanished his staff before he could finish waving it. “It’s similar to what Earthlings would call ‘comfort food.’”

“Hmph, well I’d appreciate being able to breathe during this ‘training session.’” Vegeta retorted, wrinkling his nose.

Whis hummed noncommittally, choosing to ignore the insult. Instead, he walked over to the small stream that waterfalled from the stone wall of his room into a tiny pond. He used it to wash his hands, before washing his face. Vegeta fidgeted with his gloves, unsure of what he should be doing at the moment.

Almost as if he read his mind, Whis said, “Remove your armor and situate yourself on my bed. I’ll be with you shortly.”

Quickly ridding himself of his armor and accessories, Vegeta slowly unzipped his spandex as he walked to the plush bed in the center of the room. The purple sheets were similar to Lord Beerus’ and he noticed the actual mattress levitated from the ground, much like it’s owner loved to do. He slowly climbed onto the bed, placing both arms and a knee onto it to ensure it was sturdy. A soft chuckle reminded him that someone else was in the room and he bit back embarrassment at his childish behavior, before plopping his butt onto the bed’s surface.

“Comfy?” Whis questioned, only partially teasing.

“When are we going to start?” Vegeta countered, deflecting the query.

Flicking his hands dry, Whis pulled off his clothes and folded them neatly onto the stand to his right. Vegeta had a full view of the angel’s back and appreciated the lean muscle usually hidden beneath long sleeves and an oversized cloak. He watched the muscles in Whis’ ass tighten as he shifted from one foot to the other, before turning to walk towards Vegeta. His member swung lightly with each step, twitching once or twice at the attention Vegeta was giving him. He sat at the edge of the bed and smoothed a hand over the bedding.

“You didn’t remove all of your clothes.” He inquired, staring at the half-undone zipper.

Vegeta leaned back onto his palms and scoffed. “I don’t see a point in being totally naked. My dick’s the only thing that needs to be out.”

Whis allowed his eyelids to fall partly closed and began crawling towards the prince. “You think being the only one clothed will cement your dominance over me?”

Vegeta’s eyes bored into his, never breaking eye contact. He knew, even though the effeminate man before him giggled and cooed with the woman, that he was not just going to bend over and be taken. What would be the point in this challenge, then? However, as the man took his zipper in his teeth and slowly dragged it to his crotch, Vegeta felt a shiver of nervous anticipation run into his groin. On the practice field, there was power in even the most subtle movements of his master. Vegeta didn’t know why he thought Whis would present differently in the bedroom.

Whis licked a stripe up the hollow joint between pelvis and thigh, drawing instantaneous reaction from the prince. Vegeta bit his lip, choking off a humiliating moan and shoved a hand against Whis’ forehead.  
“Aheh, did I touch a sensitive spot?”

Vegeta growled. “Tch! I came to be trained, not coddled.”

Whis turned his mouth into the hand in his face and swiped his tongue between Vegeta’s fingers. “Control, Vegeta. Lest you forgot the purpose of this training.”

Snatching his hand back, Vegeta had to restrain himself from punching Whis in that smug face of his. Laying his hand back on the mattress, Vegeta leered as Whis lowered his head to his now exposed member. A blue hand wrapped around his cock, pulling a hissing gasp from his throat at the chilled touch. Seeing the brown appendage begin to wilt, Whis hurriedly engulfed the head into the warmth of his orifice. He heard a satisfied sigh released above his head and Whis smirked into the sucking motion of his lips. Vegeta’s voice cracked, as he repeatedly flicked his tongue over the cleft between the glans.

Whis lifted his head from its bowed position. Vegeta would’ve thrown his head back in exasperation, if it didn’t make him look desperate. It’s been months since his last lay.

“What? I didn’t shove you away this time.” He huffed.

“Because you were enjoying yourself.” Whis smiled.

The light blush along Vegeta’s ears deepened. “Well, didn’t you say this was supposed to be pleasurable?”

Vegeta’s member leaked beautifully, and Whis’ smile broke into a smirk. “Yes, I did.”

*****

Whis decided to go easy on Vegeta during the first few lessons, letting him orgasm with a grunting finish. This time, Vegeta was pulled from his euphoric high when he was thrown to the bed and a hand clapped over his gaping mouth, effectively silencing his increasingly loud pants. Whis had squeezed his thighs around Vegeta’s hips and flipped them on the bed. Vegeta could feel the angel’s ass pulsating around his cock and he moaned into the offending hand covering his mouth. He bucked upwards, trying to get that friction back and Whis sat on him fully to pin him to the bed, which only made him moan louder.

“Now that you’re no longer resisting, let’s begin the training.” Vegeta furrowed his brows, but before he could respond, Whis continued. “No moaning allowed. You got that?”

He felt the Saiyajin huff out through his nose in frustration, but didn’t get a verbal response. With that silent confirmation, Whis released his hold on Vegeta and was immediately flipped back over. Vegeta clenched his jaw tightly and pressed Whis’ arms into the bed with both hands. Whether for leverage or so he wouldn’t cover Vegeta’s mouth again, Whis was not certain.

Vegeta’s hips pistoned forward, balls slapping against Whis’ asscheeks, making the angel tilt his head back in ecstasy. He could tell the prince had never lain with another man, as he had brushed Whis’ prostate only twice in these sessions and not realized that the strength of the thrusts was not what triggered the glorious twitching around his embedded cock. However, Whis could still appreciate the power behind Vegeta’s thrusts and was more aroused by the mere fact that Vegeta was directly transferring his vocal restraint into fucking him into the mattress. When Vegeta got close, Whis rewarded him by finishing him off with his mouth.

*****

Vegeta had become pretty good at keeping his voice to a minimum and was becoming a bit cocky about thrusting down his master’s throat when he came. Whis decided he was ready for the next lesson. Vegeta sat back on his elbows, observing Whis as he laved at his cock. He was exhausted from his day of defense training in the field of needles and just wanted to be ridden to sleep. Laying back completely on the mattress, Vegeta closed his eyes and sighed at the pleasurable sensations.

Whis peered up at the resting Saiyajin and narrowed his eyes. Did he forget this was still training? He coated his fingers with a large amount of the gel he uses to stretch himself and thrusts two fingers into Vegeta’s anus. The prince shouts in surprise and captures Whis’ head between thick thighs. His mouth is still around the shaft of Vegeta’s dick, choking slightly at the sudden movement. Vegeta probably would have laughed if he wasn’t so livid, at the moment.

“What the FUCK?!” He screamed, spittle flying from his mouth on the expletive. “Get your goddamn fingers out of my ass!”

Letting the cock fall from his mouth, Whis licked at the saliva string still attached to his lip. “Ah, so that’s where your control ends.”

“You bet your fucking ass, it does!” Whis probed his fingers around curiously, causing Vegeta to shiver in disgust. “I said stop!”

He went to kick the angel, but Whis grabbed his leg and pulled him lower on the bed, so that he was lying beneath his master. Vegeta was about to use the other leg to catch him in the neck, but the deadly look in Whis’ eyes gave him pause. The fingers were removed gingerly, but Vegeta still winced at the strange feeling.

Whis felt the Saiyajin trembling beneath him, though only faintly. “I’m not doing this to humiliate you Vegeta. I want you to remain in control, even when it seems like you aren’t.”

They stared at one another for a few moments, Vegeta calming his racing heart and trying to wrap his mind around what the hell this psycho was talking about. Whis carefully circled Vegeta’s opening with his middle finger and stretched the puckering entrance absentmindedly.

“Can I continue?” He asked, finally.  
Without a word, Vegeta’s head jerked in a nod and he bit his lip. He squirmed a bit at the unusual feeling and glared up at Whis, as there was nothing pleasurable about this training. A couple minutes passed of awkward thrusting and another finger was added, before Vegeta felt he’d had enough.

He opened his mouth to berate the man above him, when a sound between a yelp and a moan burst from his throat.

“Augh~!”

His eyes widened at the unfamiliar voice that escaped him and he snapped his jaws together. He sat in shock at the embarrassing noise that had come from his own lips and gave Whis a look almost pleading him to forget he ever heard it. Whis only gave him a mirthful grin and shoved his fingers into that same spot. Vegeta’s spine jolted forward and he felt like his stomach had leaped into his throat. The pleasure was indescribable and he was conflicted in how he felt about it. It wasn’t coming from his dick, but somewhere within. Is this how Whis felt when he was being fucked? How the hell did he keep his voice in?

*****

Vegeta tried and failed to remain silent throughout these new lessons. Every time he thought he’d found a way to keep his voice down, Whis was already two steps ahead. The stretch of an actual dick in his ass was nothing like the thin fingers of the lithe angel. The force against his prostate was breathtaking. He blinked his eyes open to see a spot on the bedding where he must have drooled, unknowingly. It didn’t even register as drool in his mind; the pounding against that bundle of nerves was eliminating every last brain cell in his head. He didn’t see how he was supposed to remain in control with a dick shoved up his ass.

Wait a second.

Vegeta lifted his torso from the bed and rocked back against Whis, making the angel lose his balance and fall onto his butt. Wiping his mouth, Vegeta gazed over his shoulder at Whis, ignoring the confusion on his face. He scoot backwards into his master’s lap and grabbed ahold of the angel’s curved member. Whis grabbed his hips to help him balance himself, before Vegeta lowered himself onto his dick.

They both sighed in content, Vegeta twerking his hips backwards into Whis’ thrusts. Whis knew it was only a matter of time before Vegeta realized he didn’t have to just lay there and take it. It just surprised him it took so long. Seems Vegeta was more sensitive than he’d realized. Reaching forward, Whis tweaked the other’s nipples, getting a delightful gasp from the stilted grunts.

This position wasn’t the most comfortable for the receiver, so Whis decided to help Vegeta out some, by shifting him so that they faced one another. Vegeta’s legs reflexively hooked behind his back, and Whis linked his wrists behind the other’s back. Their eyes locked as they rocked languidly, neither one putting in the effort to thrust - instead grinding up and down simultaneously. Their pants were in sync, mixing as they breathed the same air. Electric shocks trickled along Vegeta’s spine with every roll of their hips.

Sh~ it…

Vegeta could feel the first wave of his orgasm incoming. This is intense, he thought, feeling like Whis felt the same, if the fluttering eyelashes were anything to go by. He couldn’t do this anymore. He needed this orgasm - now.

Shoving the other flat onto his back, Vegeta planted his knees on either side of Whis’ hips and began bouncing his ass at a steady pace. He made sure to pop his hips back on the downward thrusts to swipe his prostate and exploded no sooner than Whis could react. His whole body wracked with shivers and he melted into Whis’ chest, barely getting a sound out between his pleasured gasps. When the last jolt hit him, a broken moan rang throughout the sanctuary, sending a tidal wave of heat into Whis’ body.

He clutched at the slighter man’s hips and thrust up into the palpating warmth of Vegeta’s ass. Vegeta gasped in a lungful of air at the overstimulating sensation radiating from his prostate. Whis rolled the Saiyajin onto his back and spread Vegeta’s thighs as wide as they could go. This way, he had a full view of his member pummeling into that tight heat and could watch as he stripped away every last shred of Vegeta’s control. Vegeta was becoming lightheaded as he felt a second orgasm coming and almost couldn’t breathe at how shallow his breaths had become. His voice hiccupped as he moaned out in ecstasy, a dry orgasm causing his body to tense up and violently convulse. Whis clenched his teeth together and let out a hissing groan, as his own orgasm shook his frame. He thrust forward with every jolt, making Vegeta scream out in what sounded like pain.

He fell forward, unceremoniously onto the Saiyajin and Vegeta’s body went limp beneath him. Worried the man may have passed out, Whis used what felt like all his strength to look over his apprentice.

When he got to his face, a blissed out smile lay upon Vegeta’s lips and they broke into a triumphant grin. “You lost control.”

Whis stared at him, mouth agape and in total shock. He watched as the other laughed weakly at his expense, before losing consciousness and falling asleep. Whis smiled affectionately at his apprentice and rested his chin on the other’s chest.

*****

“So, did you take my advice?”

“I say,” Whis swallowed a spoonful of the gelatin dessert and winked at the woman across from him. “You do know your husband, Ms. Bulma.”


	3. Frieza x Vegeta Pt. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more hinted Frieza/Vegeta unless you decide to read the smut chapter. It's coming, just haven't completed it yet. I thought I should at least give you guys something this week. Enjoy!

Renzeigo, a ceremony most sacred to the Saiyajin race. Planet Vegeta, graced with the rays of three simultaneous full moons, the event occurring only once every jubilee. It was on this day that Prince Vegeta was brought into the world. The greatest honor for any Saiyajin legacy. The king interpreted his son’s birth to mean that he would one day find the key to unleash the power of the legendary Super Saiyajin.

Vegeta now knew what a spectacular lie that had been. Over these eight short years, the truth had become more and more clear. It was apparent that had grown stronger, as he was now a D-rank in Frieza’s army. However, there were a thousand others still more powerful than himself and none even stood a chance against the Ice-jin lord.

Vegeta didn’t even know if he hated the Cold heir as much as his comrades. Raditz and Nappa believed Frieza was responsible for the destruction of Planet Vegeta. All Vegeta could remember about his home was his father. The man who abandoned him in favor of power. Sure, Vegeta had just been learning how to purge at the time, but had he truly been that much of a hindrance to the Saiyajin king? It still stung every time he pictured that tall, solid frame walking away and, ultimately, giving up on him. He remembered screaming himself hoarse as he called out for the man he called father. A truly pathetic moment in his childhood; one he wished he could take back.

Of course, he could’ve been misinformed about much of the politics surrounding the situation. But the more he pondered over it, it appeared that - in the end - the fittest survived. By his knowledge, the Saiyajin race was wiped out because they were the weaker beings. Had the third-class risen up against his father, Vegeta was sure the king would have similarly had them all wiped out.

No, Vegeta was grateful to Frieza for ridding him of such an embarrassing existence. Only a fool would contrast fabricated potential with unbridled strength. What he loathed about Frieza was his ability to effortlessly chip away at the only constant in the young prince’s life. His pride. It was humiliating and downright disrespectful how his mere relation to Frieza roused an attitude of dismissal from other warriors. It was pretty much galaxy-wide knowledge that Vegeta was treated as if he were to be the next successor of Frieza’s Empire. And the prince was not blind to this phenomenon, but he couldn’t give an explanation to why the Ice-jin tolerated him so. He didn’t behave much differently than anyone else. The only difference he could see was that he refused to be a kiss-ass. Hell, Vegeta knew Frieza tolerated much less from soldiers even more superior than himself.

Maybe it was because of his this fact that the prince received little to no respect from the other soldiers in Frieza’s army. Nappa tried to assure him they were looking down on his Saiyajin heritage, but Vegeta knew it went deeper than that. Most wouldn’t oppose him outright for fear of any of it getting back to Frieza - as if he needed the lizard to fight his battles. However, he was keen enough to pick up on the subtleties. Longer missions, food poisoning, “malfunctioning” of his healing tank, the list went on. The higher ranked officials could care less what he told Frieza, as they were already perceived to be assets to Frieza’s army. They taunted him, “treated” him to extra sparring matches, and did just about anything that could be fabricated into a lie about toughening him up.

The prince was sitting in the med-bay, waiting to be examined for the second time that week. Cui had crushed his fist between his own in the most recent spar, dislocating three fingers in the process. The injury was nowhere nearly as gruesome as some other sessions have ended, but it was still painful nonetheless. Vegeta would’ve simply tried to reduce them himself, however he wasn’t sure if some of the bones in his knuckles had shattered, as well. His gloves were a pain to get off, but he knew the physician would need to examine him before deciding how to proceed.

To his surprise, he didn’t even have an examination done. The physician took one look at him and told his assistants to take him to the rejuvenation tanks.

“Usually, you’re the ones telling me the importance of protocol and policy,” Vegeta raised an eyebrow, as the medics hurriedly removed his clothes. “What’s this, all of a sudden?”

The physician rolled his eyes in obvious disdain of this task and punched in a code on the machine’s control panel. “Orders from Lord Frieza. You are to be in prime condition for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

Vegeta didn’t have a chance to have more questions answered, as he was guided into the tank and sealed for recovery. He put the mask in place and allowed himself to wonder about this unorthodox turn of events. Frieza said nothing about a debriefing that evening, nor did Vegeta think Frieza would return from Ul’ra so soon. What is he planning?

When his healing was complete, the Saiyajin was informed to clean himself up and to wait for orders in his quarters. He was becoming more frustrated with the vagueness of it all and had to restrain himself from marching straight to Frieza’s chambers to demand an explanation. It was very odd for Frieza not to give him specific instructions. He was beginning to wonder if this was a gimmick made up by Zarbon. The freak would get off to something as trivial as getting the prince to obey his orders, no matter how indirect the obedience.

Raditz was lounging in his cot, attempting to sleep off his soreness from training. Nappa was across from him, polishing his boots. Vegeta returned from the showers, feeling refreshed and pulled on a black pair of spandex. After covering himself appropriately, the prince grabbed an armor from one of the hall units.

Upon his return, one of his roommates decided to speak up. “Where’re you headed, Vegeta?” Nappa questioned.

“If you’re assuming I’m going out to that filthy district, you’ll be sorely disappointed.” Vegeta stood before the mirror, admiring the fit of his armor on his physique. “Frieza has requested to meet with me.”

That topic seemed to peak Raditz’s attention, causing the resting warrior to crack open an eye. He peered at the prince’s choice in armor through his unruly mane of hair and refrained from commenting. Unfortunately for him, Vegeta caught his judging glance.

“What?” The young prince challenged, turning from the mirror to glare at his comrade.

“Aren’t you a little dressed up for a simple meeting?” Raditz drawled.

Vegeta crossed his arms and frowned deeper. “I have no idea what this summoning is about and I’d rather not give him reason to be offended.”

Raditz gave Nappa a meaningful look before rolling over to face the wall. Vegeta’s eyes narrowed at the silent interaction and grit his teeth.

“If you have something to say, spit it out!”

Nappa held up his hands in an attempt to placate his prince’s short temper. “Nothing against you, Vegeta. It’s just weird to see you actually celebrate your day of birth, after so long.”

The prince’s eyes widened with indignation. “I-this isn't about that!”

Nappa ignored Vegeta's outburst. “Well, what else would it be for? Our next mission isn’t for another three weeks and none of us have done anything outlandish enough to warrant a face-to-face meeting. Don’t you find it weird that Frieza is returning early from a transaction with one of his most fickle allies just to speak with you?”

Vegeta clenched his jaw and turned back to his reflection. He wasn’t a fool. He knew that this turn of events was abnormal and very out of the ordinary for the diplomatic tyrant. If anything, Nappa was the fool if he thought Frieza would actually celebrate something as insignificant as his day of birth.

“Are you implying the lizard is zooming halfway across the galaxy just to wish me good will?” Vegeta mocked, even though he was seething inside.

Raditz swallowed a frustrated growl, instead slamming his fists into the mattress. “Stop bullshitting him, Nappa! I’m sick of all this sideways talk.” He shoved his hair out of his face and sat at the edge of his cot. “Look, Vegeta, this isn’t just another birthday for you, alright? I’m sure you’ve felt it - you know, the urge?”

Unsure of where this conversation was headed, Vegeta opted to remain silent. Unfortunately, his eyes betrayed the meaning behind this silence. The two elder Saiyajin could only marvel at the extent of the youngest’s ignorance.

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me,” Raditz grumbled, swiping a hand down his face. “For a male Saiyajin, it is sixteen years after his day of birth that he’s at his most vulnerable. His physical strength is still the same, but his will is significantly weakened. A sudden urge to release overcomes him and clouds his mind until he satisfies that hunger. I once had an instructor tell me this nuisance was the gods’ way of ensuring the Saiyajin race never goes extinct. All the good that’d done…”

Nappa sighed at the inevitability of it all and stood with his arms crossed. “What we’re saying is that there is more than one way to sate this urge. You can brawl to the point that even blinking is a chore or you can fuck someone’s brains out. I think you know which one Frieza’d prefer.”

Vegeta’s fists shook with murderous intent at the implications of that statement, a sense of betrayal clenching at his heart. “You sick perverts must be asinine to think I’d ever lust over that fucking-”

“It’s not about what you want.” Nappa explained over Vegeta’s outrage. “It’s more-so an instinct than anything else. If Frieza’s initiating a meeting with you today, of all days, I doubt it’s because he’s aching for an ass-whooping.”

The prince was left speechless over this new perspective. They thought Frieza was lusting after him? Did Frieza even know about this Saiyajin custom? Who the hell was he kidding, if this is a weakness of theirs - of course the tyrant knew something about it! But why him? And how the hell had he not noticed? He must be having a memory lapse because he can't recall a moment where it appeared Frieza was coming onto him. There’s no way the tyrant planned something like that. These two are out of their minds!

“You two don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He stated cooly, pulling on his gloves.

A low growl reverberated off the ships’ walls as Raditz ground his teeth together. “For crying out loud, Vegeta! Frieza’s been grooming you from day one! We never said anything because we weren't sure but-”

“Then what makes you so sure, now?!” Vegeta raised a ki-charged hand toward his subordinates, feeling his blood boil beneath his skin. “What’s the difference between telling me then and now? You knew nothing then and you know not a fucking iota of what’s going on now! What’s changed?” Vegeta released a humorless laugh. “I’d love to hear it. Is it that you’ve lost your cowardice? The same weakness that consumed our entire race for twenty fucking years beneath the rule of that tyrant? Well, congratulations! You’ve managed to wait until it was too late - again!”

Nappa and Raditz shifted into a less neutral stance at their prince’s trembling form.Realizing how much composure he’d lost in their presence, Vegeta raised his chin and lowered his arm back to his side. “Tch. You’re all the same.”

The two elder warriors stepped aside with their heads bowed in submission at their prince’s show of dominance. The conversation was over. Vegeta glared at them for a couple moments longer, before snatching up his scouter and taking his leave.

Raditz glanced at Nappa in shame and anguish, feeling a pang of pity for their young prince. Nappa felt it as well, wishing they’d handled the situation at a more opportune time. What Vegeta said was not too far off from the truth. They knew this would be a sensitive topic, which is why they gave the prince his space that day. They just hadn't predicted the Ice-jin lord would make such an underhanded move as this. With the click of the door, Nappa punched the wall, accenting it with a curse. Raditz sunk back onto his cot and hung his head in his hands. There was really nothing they could do.


	4. Frieza x Vegeta Pt. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am supposed to be working on papers for class, but I couldn't stop thinking about this unfinished drabble. So here it is!

Vegeta attempted to disregard all of the new information his comrades had just thrown at him. Frieza had not returned just to speak with him. And what urges were they talking about - he felt just fine! This was all just a coincidence and Frieza was using this extra time to check up on Vegeta's progress.

“The lord has not summoned you.”

Zarbon’s voice snapped Vegeta out of his thoughts and he realized that, indeed, he had not been summoned. He’d been so furious with his subjects that he totally forgot Frieza had said he would send for him. His thoughts of the lord subconsciously led him straight to the emperor’s observational tower. He stood dumbfounded before the other prince, not sure how to explain his presence. Zarbon’s gaze was trailing over Vegeta’s body in an appraising manner, not helping to diffuse his speechlessness. After finding whatever he had been searching for, a sly smirk spread over Zarbon’s face.

“Maybe you can please our lord, yet.” He stepped to the side and pressed the intercom for the Lord Frieza’s chambers. “My lord, your guest for the evening has arrived. Shall I send him in?”

Vegeta hadn’t appreciated the underhanded compliment and didn’t gift the second in command with a response. Instead, he stood with his shoulders squared and an air of aloofness about him.

“Send him in.” Frieza’s gravelly voice replied through the speaker.

Already knowing the drill, Vegeta stepped into the spacious room and kneeled before the throne. When he didn’t receive a command to stand at ease, he chanced a glance at Frieza’s glider only to realize there was no one there. He scanned the room and hesitated before slowly standing. Walking over to the levitating chair, Vegeta slid a hand along the velvet backing of the interior. He’d never seen anyone else sat in this spot and was tempted to experience the plush feeling himself. He immediately discarded that idea, as him being so close to the lord’s “throne” was pushing the envelope as it was.

His eyes scoped the room once more, before doubling back to the staircase in the far corner. His heart skipped a beat in his chest, his hand still in place on the glider. The lights blacked out, suddenly, and he felt his eyes widen as they instinctively tried to adjust to the darkness. The wall behind him began to split open and he just caught himself from turning to gape at the beauty that was surely unfolding behind him. He stood in disbelief at what was happening. The room was illuminated in a soft bluish hue from the light of the moon. A full moon.  
Vegeta’s heart was pounding against his ribcage, his body begging him to succumb to the call of the gods. Every hair on his body stood on end, his tail squeezing his abdomen, as it coiled around his waist even tighter. Too scared to turn his head even a fraction toward the uncovered window, Vegeta listened as Frieza approached him.

“It’s a lovely view,” He taunted lightly, stopping just short of brushing shoulders with Vegeta. “I would have thought you of all people would appreciate its beauty.”

Vegeta released a steadying breath. “It is forbidden for us to transform off the battlefield, is it not?”

Frieza tilted his head to the side and smirked at the tense Saiyajin. “Precisely.”

Icy fingers wrapped around his own hand still clutching at the glider and gently removed it. When he went to drop his hand to his side, Frieza seized it within his own grasp and held it firmly between them. Vegeta stared at the clashing pale and tanned skin, confounded at his superior’s questionable behavior. He tried to keep his hand from trembling as bad as it was, but an uncontrollable chill had overcome him. It was as if his body couldn’t contain the need to release Oozaru. Or maybe it was the unnerving tenderness in Frieza’s gestures.

Vegeta was forced to come face-to-face with Frieza, when his head was suddenly jerked to the side. He’d squeezed his eyes shut the moment a strong hand grasped his jaw. An amused breath escaped Frieza’s lips over Vegeta’s determination to remain steadfast to a likely begrudging policy. He studied the prince’s countenance, taking in the matured jaw line, the loss of youthfulness in his cheeks, and those full, plump lips. If only he weren’t biting them…

“Your team has been exceedingly competent in fulfilling your duties, lately. I’m impressed.” He stepped away from the prince, feeling his hackles rise in alarm. He ran a thumb over Vegeta’s knuckles before dropping his hand. “Does this mean you’ve learned to tame that rambunctious pack of yours?”

The jab at his authority had Vegeta leaping for the familiarity of Frieza’s condescending approval. He attempted to hide his shakiness with a biting remark.

“My competence is hardly anything to fawn over, seeing as I am more than capable of handling even your finest soldiers.” Vegeta opened his eyes as he turned his gaze back to the doorway, fidgeting with his gloves absentmindedly. “Why did you really call me here?”

Vegeta hated how frail he sounded, his voice coming out just barely above a whisper. But the unspoken tension was only going to make him more on edge the longer it dragged out. He knew Frieza had noticed and wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard was revelling in Vegeta’s agony. It wasn’t just the moon glaring through the window that elicited such a reaction from him, however Vegeta refused to fully acknowledge the alternative.

His back grew hot as Frieza’s presence lingered on the err of being uncomfortably close, breath mingling with the hairs at his nape. A resounding gulp came with the prince’s need to swallow and Frieza blew out of his nose down the back of Vegeta’s neck. He watched the immediate shiver that ran through the prince’s body at the action and tested the waters a bit more by wrapping his tail in conjunction with the brown appendage already secured about Vegeta’s waist.

Vegeta jolted backwards, causing the both of them to stumble, clumsily. As soon as he got his barings, Vegeta detached himself from Frieza’s embrace, turning to him with wide eyes. A hand was instantaneously slapped over his face, craning his head into an awkwardly strained position. Frieza steadied the young Saiyajin with an arm to support him. Vegeta’s head spun from the swiftness of the action, unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

The jitters in his body became uncontrollable as the adrenaline ignited from within. The teasing glow of the moon against his skin paired with the forced restraint against his instincts only proved to further interfere with the equilibrium Vegeta had mastered with Oozaru. A growl escaped between bared fangs, as he fought against Frieza’s hold.

The Ice-jin lord observed his subject with fascination, the teen uncharacteristically thrashing about in his grasp. Vegeta’s moves were usually very calculated and intentionally muted around him. There was no witty retort, scathing glare, or silent loathing - per usual when Vegeta didn’t get his way. Instead, teeth snapped blindly in the direction of Frieza’s hand, while gloved hands shoved aggressively at his chest. In that moment, Frieza saw a need.

Locking the young man into place, Frieza brushed his nose and lips along Vegeta’s exposed jugular, taking note of the purr that vibrated from his throat. Vegeta’s focus zeroed in on that sensation, relishing in the subtle promise for more. A searing heat began to pool deep in his gut that he couldn’t do anything to ease. The sensation, though unbearable, was somewhat relieving. Sort of like..a...

‘I’m sure you’ve felt it...the urge?’

The urge. Raditz. That fucking bastard! Vegeta’s mind was a murky mess of fleeting thoughts and half-assed threats. That’s right, he thought. It’s his fault I’m feeling this way. He needs to take responsibility. He has to- Hheuh! Something warm and delightfully pleasant traced languidly along Vegeta’s neck, ending its trail with a nip to his chin.

Frieza felt the other go limp in his arms and wanted to see what other reactions he could elicit from the proud prince. He bit into the smooth skin just below Vegeta’s jaw and felt his own loins stir at the groan that evoked. Gloved hands clutched at Frieza’s armor, Vegeta panting into the night. Frieza shifted so that his hardness slid alongside Vegeta’s own length. Upon contact, Vegeta canted his hips forward to provide them with more friction. The same hungry warmth from his neck slunk its way into his gaping mouth, tickling the roof of his mouth. He almost gagged on the tongue, he realized, as it plunged deeper, teasing at his uvula.

Vegeta’s support disappeared suddenly and he fell backward into a small pod, knocking an elbow against the metal edge. He blinked away the spots in his vision and stared up at the ceiling of the room. He’d forgotten where he was and who he’d been with, fingers mindlessly caressing the plush cushion of Frieza’s chair, again. His head lulled to the side as he gauged his surroundings, not fully comprehending the situation. The odor wasn’t necessarily pleasant and there was a cool draft against his arse. Vegeta’s eyes widened at that fact and glanced down at his naked bottom. His legs were within Frieza’s loose grasp, one of Frieza’s shoulders slotting into the cusp of his left knee.

“You…” Vegeta was speechless. This wasn’t happening. “Lor-F-Frieza-”

“Relax, Vegeta,” Something slick and cold rubbed against a place Vegeta, himself, was wary of touching. “You’re very perceptive, Vegeta; it’s what intrigues me about you. Yet you still have such innocence. I wondered, how could one of my best mercenaries be so naive? And then I figured it out.” He punctuated his epiphany by sliding a finger into the untouched opening. Vegeta snarled at the intrusion and attempted to squirm from his position. Frieza pinned his legs against the sides of the chair, as he shoved another finger alongside the first. “You have no interest in sex, do you?”

Trapped beneath the smug tyrant, Vegeta could only glare up at the other man. “What the hell does that have to do with you shoving your fingers up my ass?!”

A bit taken aback by his sudden switch, Frieza paused in his ministrations. So he is still present, the emperor observed. I was just beginning to have fun. He probed his fingers around until the Saiyajin shouted out in surprise.

“Augh!”

Frieza leaned over Vegeta’s torso, fingers pumping a steady tempo in and out of his searing heat. “This is sex, Vegeta. That thrill. That longing desire for release. Lust in its true form.”

He lowered his head back to the junction between Vegeta’s neck and shoulder, leaving damp areas along the spandex-covered skin.

“The interesting thing about sex is, it’s different for everyone. Some have a drive that lasts fifteen minutes, some for years.” Removing the armor that protects his most vulnerable organs, Frieza aligned his cock alongside the fingers still buried within Vegeta’s anus. “And when those years have passed, how lovely it is to finally sink into that wonderful abyss of ecstasy.”

Frieza ground his dick into Vegeta’s tight hole, pounding his ass at a brutal pace. It had been eons since he last had a virgin and it was only right that Vegeta was his first lay in seven years. The tightness around his cock was otherworldly and Vegeta’s moan only spurred him to slide deeper into that tight heat. He twisted Vegeta onto his side, aiming for that same spot that made the young prince arch into a beautiful bow. When he found it, a lewd moan ripped from Vegeta’s chest. He quickened the pace, so he was ramming the Saiyajin’s prostate thrice every second. Garbled nonsense spilled from Vegeta’s mouth, Frieza’s eyes rolling back in complete bliss.

For Vegeta, every thrust was like a ki blast continually firing into his back and bursting from his dick. Vegeta’s body was still thrumming with the jilted call of Oozaru. The added pressure from within only exacerbated the overwhelming fire. His breath came heavy, as thick tears blurred his vision. He couldn’t breathe! It was too much!

“Fr-ie-za! Pl-EASE! Eugh!”  
This was it. He was going to die. But why? He’d done everything he was supposed to; Frieza said so, himself. Was that all a lie? Was that not enough for him? Was Vegeta just not enough? What more could he do? What more did he want?!

Throwing aside all logical thought, Vegeta gripped the sides of Frieza’s face in his delirium. It was coming, he was going to implode from the inside. He had to do something.

“Heuh!” A breathy moan shoved its way out, involuntarily and he tried again. “Father!”

Frieza stuttered in his rhythm and stared, wide-eyed down at his lover. Unable to see through his tears, Vegeta closed his eyes and pulled Frieza’s head down to knock against his own.

“Father, please - just, I can’t,” When his voice cracked, Vegeta sucked in a breath and opened his eyes to gaze into Frieza’s own. “Please.”

‘Don’t be like him.’

Vegeta couldn’t bring himself to say it, as if the verbalization of what was happening would make his situation any less real. Somehow he had come to trust the man before him and, yet again, that trust was shattered by the truth. Frieza watched this shift in judgment as he hovered above the young prince. Hurt transformed into hate. It shocked him how much betrayal burned within those obsidian eyes. A foreign feeling twisted inside his chest and Frieza’s cock wilted slightly.

He pulled out of Vegeta, roughly, not comprehending his own reaction. What did it matter that Vegeta no longer admired him anymore? He hadn’t even known the kid viewed him in such high esteem. Father...Was he comparing Frieza to that spineless excuse for a king?

Frieza allowed that thought to drown out whatever drivel was happening in his chest, rage curling his face in disgust. “How boring. I thought I invited a warrior to have the honor of laying with his lord. Instead, I wasted my erection on a bitch with daddy issues.”

Bones chilled from the absence of a warm body. Ass aching from the abuse. Vegeta lay shaking with agony and sorrow, until he was shrouded in darkness - moonlight hidden behind a wall, once more.

“Clean yourself up; you are dismissed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This headcannon is based on the notion that Vegeta actually respected Frieza, due to the shaping of a young mind into a mindset of the perfect warrior - influenced both by Frieza and his Saiyajin heritage. This concept plays with the idea that Vegeta's ignorance about the workings of politics and his perception of what a true warrior played a role in developing dangerous misconceptions. For Vegeta ignorance is not bliss.


	5. Goku x Vegeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals are done with and I aced all my classes! I feel so free! Haven't been in school for a while, so to only have to work and not worry about homework or studying feels like a vacation to me lol Sorry I've been away for so long. I literally fell asleep when trying to post this chap last night LOL But without further ado, here is one of my favorite DBZ ships! As promised to @lojo a lighthearted chapter. This turned out to be really fluffy, so no smut next chapter. But you can expect more KakaVege in the future!

“Son-kun!” Bulma threw herself into the arms of her longtime friend. It had been years since she last saw him, taking off to train that random kid in the tournament. “You know, I was really beginning to wonder if Majin Buu would have to replace you as my favorite warrior.”

“Mom, please,” Trunks cut in, glancing toward the room where his father was currently lounging.

Bulma waved a dismissive hand at him and shrugged her shoulders. “Your father already knows this - don’t make such a big deal out of it.”

Goku perked up at the mention of the other full-blooded Saiyajin. “Vegeta’s here?”

The two Briefs prodigé raised a brow, giving each other knowing looks.

“You’re not fooling anyone, Goku. The only reason you come by here of your own volition is to spar with Vegeta.” Bulma accused.

Trunks rubbed the back of his head, as he tried to slink out of this conversation, but Goku turned to him with a pout. “That’s not true! I come to see you guys too, right Trunks?”

“Uh, no offense, Goku, but she’s kind of right.” At the crestfallen slump of the brute’s shoulders, he suppressed a sigh and decided to humor the guy. “However, you do always make sure to spend time with us afterwards, so it’s really no big deal - right, mom?”

Bulma wouldn’t let him get away so easily, however. “Yeah, okay. So if you’re true intentions weren’t to come spar, then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind taking care of Vegeta while Trunks and I review his dissertation?”

Goku blinked at the odd request and scratched the back of his head. “Eh, sure, but why does Vegeta need to be taken care of?”

Bulma led him to the living room, where a mound of blankets lay bunched into a thick ball atop a pallet. A reddish brown bush of spikes peaked from the edges of the blanket, hinting to just whom was swaddled in that warm cocoon. Before he could ask what was wrong, heavy footsteps came hurtling from down the hallway.

“Wait! You have to sanitize yourself!”

Both adults stepped back at the serious command, warm smiles decorating both of their faces. Bulla leapt into the air, using her freshly learned ability to fly to block their way into the room. She shoved a bottle at them both with the amount of authority only a child of Bulma and Vegeta could muster up. Bulma held out her hands for the young nurse to apply the cleansing solution, nudging Goku to copy the gesture. 

“Now be sure to be quiet because daddy has a headache.” She informs in a not so quiet whisper.

Bulma zips her mouth and Goku nods enthusiastically, Bulla smiling at her guests compliancy.

Bulma tiptoed into the room and kneeled beside her husband’s near catatonic state. “Vegeta~”

Goku stood back awkwardly, observing the almost delicate way Bulma was handling his rival. Vegeta snuggled deeper beneath the sheets covering him and released a grunt just short of being classified as a whine.

“I'm going to the lab with Trunks. If you need anything, let Goku know. I made him promise to watch over you.”

At the sound of his rival's name, Vegeta finally rose his head from his burrow and sent a withering glare at the woman.

“I know he's not the best help,” Goku made an untoward noise at the jab. “But he's trying to prove his friendship to me, so play nice, okay?”

His only visible eye never left Bulma's face and she didn't budge until he'd given in. When he buried his face back into the pillow, Bulma's soft smile widened and she stood from her crouched position.

“He's really not feeling well, Goku.” Her expression became a bit sad as she glanced back at his form and murmured under her breath, “I've actually never seen him like this.” Shrugging with a definitive sigh, she forced the smile to remain. “But I have my team looking into his blood work and we'll have this thing figured out, before the day’s through! In the meantime, I'll be counting on you, Son-kun.”

Goku knocked shoulders with her as she passed and she gave him a grateful smile, before disappearing around the corner. Goku looked back at Vegeta’s silent form, contemplating if he should engage the man or check out the fridge. He wouldn't be much help if the guy's asleep.

His thoughts were interrupted when his senses picked up on Bulla's return. She was carefully placing one foot in front of the other, both hands tightly gripping a glass of water. Her sole attention was focused on the glass, as it was filled to the brim. Her fingers probably damp from spilling on the way back. She stopped in front of Goku and looked up at him expectantly.

He raised his eyebrows and pointed to himself. “You want me to take it?”

She shook her head, but abruptly stopped as some of the water sloshed onto the floor.

“Uh, should I wake your daddy?”

She smiled and turned to her father's resting form.

Goku bent on one knee, before placing a gentle hand on Vegeta's shoulder. “Hey, Vegeta, Bulla brought you some water. I think she wants you to drink something.”

Vegeta rolled onto his back, an arm hiding his eyes from the light. “Bulla, I’m fine...Just need some rest.”

Goku blinked at Vegeta with wide eyes. He must really be sick. Vegeta acknowledging he needs rest! What next, turning down his plate?

Goku moved out of the way, as the ten year old crawled up to her dad, placing the back of her hand against his cheek like she'd seen her mother do many times before. Vegeta's skin was clammy and warm, but not too hot. She sighed and stood to her feet.

“I'm going to go do my homework. I'll be back in a few.”

She gave her father one last look, leaving him under Goku's watchful care. Because that was literally all he was doing. Watching.

He figured he should have a seat instead of standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He plopped onto the sofa with a sigh and began tapping his fingers against the armrests. Vegeta was normally a silent person, but whenever they were alone the taunts and inside jokes never ceased. Sure there’d be bouts of silence, but that was usually because they'd beat each other to such a bloody pulp that it hurt to even breathe.

Vegeta suffering in silence was something he didn't think he could get used to. Neither did he want to become used to such a thing.

“Kakarrott. Stop thinking so hard; the smoke’s making it hard to breathe.”

Goku opened his mouth to protest, but he didn't really have a comeback. He wasn't expecting Vegeta to acknowledge him. Dark eyes peered up at him from beneath heavy lids. The prince seemed as if he'd lose consciousness any second, blinking appearing to be a taxing task.

“I think you should give the insults a rest for a while, too.” Goku finally responded. “Go back to sleep, I won't bother you.”

“Isn't that what you came for, in the first pla- ack!” Vegeta's broach was cut off with a painful sounding cough.

Goku frowned, folding his legs in a butterfly position and grasping his toes. “I told you to hold off on the taunts. We can pick up where we left off just as soon as you can keep your eyes open.”

Anger pulled at Vegeta's features at the condescending tone his rival took. His mind finally cleared itself from the cloudiness of sleep and his pride shoved its way to the surface. His joints screamed at him to stop moving and the pounding in his head returned full force from that morning, however Vegeta only grimaced through the pain.

“I never pegged you as one to kick a warrior when they're down.” Goku’s eyebrows shot up beneath his bangs. “Don't give me that look, you're not fooling anyone. Why didn't you leave after the woman told you I wasn’t well? What's your real reason for being here because you sure as hell can't take care of anyone.”

A pang of hurt grazed over Goku's heart at the clear mistrust in Vegeta’s tone. He wasn't making fun of Vegeta at all, he was honestly concerned about him and wanted him to preserve his energy.

Matching the scowl on his rivals face, Goku rose from his seat. “My reason for being here is to make sure you’re okay!”

Vegeta balked as the taller man marched over to him, speechless that he was actually touched by his words. Goku squatted down to scoop the slighter man into his arms, causing Vegeta to clutch onto his clothes in astonishment.

“Kakarrott! What are you doing?” He rasped out, trying to focus on stopping the bout of vertigo Goku's actions had caused.

“I’m showing you that I can take care of you.”

He used the arm cradling Vegeta’s neck to place two fingers to his forehead, the motion drawing their faces centimeters apart. A pine-fresh scent invaded the prince’s senses and he blinked his eyes drearily, trying to clear his vision. Goku saw the sweat glistening at Vegeta’s hairline and observed the way the man shivered from the cool air against his skin. He visualized the warmest location he could picture and instant transmissioned them to a deserted canyon.

The sun beat down on their skin with an unrelenting heat as it sat at high noon. Vegeta sighed within Goku’s grasp and allowed his neck to relax, head falling back to bathe in the heat of the sun. After basking in the moment of temporary reprieve, Vegeta cracked open his eyes to observe his surroundings. They were no longer in his home, however he was familiar with the landscape. His and Kakarrott’s first stomping grounds.

“Where the hell did you take me?” He grumbled.  
“Well you seemed cold. Since the sheets weren’t doing the trick, I thought some sun would do you some good.”

Halfway through Goku’s sentence, Vegeta had closed his eyes again and rested his head against his rival’s shoulder. The heat felt like a Kami-send against his skin and the snug manner in which Kakarrott held Vegeta against his body made him want to succumb to the rest that had previously been interrupted. Not wanting to break whatever calm had come over the older Saiyajin, Goku simply stood with his arms surrounding his rival and stared at the peaceful expression resting upon his face.

An extremely angry-sounding gurgle jolted Vegeta from his fitful slumber. He rubbed away the crust that had gathered between his eyelids and stretched an arm backwards...Or at least tried to, before his elbow connected with a bony resistance. He glanced behind him and realized he was sitting within his fellow Saiyajin’s lap, as they both lounged against a mountainous rock. Goku let out a disgruntled noise at the pain radiating from his now sore jaw. His thighs reflexively tightened against Vegeta’s hips as he stirred awake, arching his back to crack out the kinks. Their legs were intertwined, naturally crossing one over the other.

Vegeta found himself in deep thought after noticing he no longer felt like an ice cube and his headache had significantly subsided. If he opened his eyes too wide, there was still a slight pressure just behind them, however the dizziness had resolved, along with that incessant throbbing. Vegeta allowed a soft sigh to pass his lips as he fell back into the others hold, staring up at the clouds that decorated the afternoon sky. This felt...nice.

Goku froze when he felt the dead weight of his rival return against his chest. He could’ve sworn Vegeta was just awake! Sitting up a bit, he shifted so he could catch a glimpse of the other’s face. Vegeta’s head was tilted slightly to the left, expression serene and eyes gazing at the sky. He’d never seen his rival this relaxed, posture slouched, arms haphazardly draped over Goku’s thighs. The solid black eyes finally directed itself toward him, so Vegeta could glare at him from the corner of his eyes.

“The hell are you smiling about?” He asked in a half-heartedly menacing tone.

It only served to brighten the grin on his rival’s face and, before he could even think about his actions, Goku hugged Vegeta close and tucked his chin in the crook between the prince’s neck and shoulder. Totally caught unawares, Vegeta raised his fist out of reflex, then firmly knocked against the buffoon’s head.

“You must’ve caught whatever I had or either you’re out of your damn mind.” He grumbled, fist slacking against the other’s head and fingers leafing through thick strands of unruly hair.

Goku pressed his cheek against the other’s, feeling reminiscent to their close encounters when teaming up in battle. Although they’d never voiced it, there was always a natural chemistry between their bodies. Goku enjoyed it very much, and it appeared Vegeta did too, if the blush on his cheeks was anything to go by.  
“And you must still be sick or...y’know.”

Vegeta really did beat him across the head this time, but Goku only chuckled through the pain. It was totally worth it. And Vegeta still hadn’t pulled away.

 

“What the hell happened to you two?”

Bulma stood with her arms on her hips, brows dipping low on her forehead and teeth grinding. Vegeta rolled his eyes and walked over to the fridge.

“I’m sure even a genius like you can put two and two together.” He drawled, opening a water bottle and guzzling the drink down.

Her cheeks flushed pink and she bristled in annoyance. “You barbaric lugs! Can’t you go a day without training?!”

Goku scratched the back of his head and caught the bottle Vegeta tossed at him, opting to remain quiet as his best friend chewed their heads off. Vegeta was smirking fondly at his wife, as she about drove herself up the wall with worry. It was the similar to the look Bulma had given him earlier that day. The prince’s eyes locked with his and the smirk slid into a smile, before his shoulders began shaking in mirth. Ahh. He hadn’t seen such a look since they defeated Kid Buu. He never forgot the sound of Vegeta’s laughter and the sight of that rare grin that seemed to de-age the man in front of him. He found himself giggling along with his rival and pretty soon they were holding their stomachs in uncontrollable laughter.

“And what about taking care of my husband makes you-” Bulma paused abruptly in her rant to stare, confounded by the two Saiyajin’s behavior.

The joyful expression on her spouse’s face and the contagious smile of Son-kun quickly smothered her outrage. Her anger was further buried when her daughter came rushing into the room and leapt into her father’s arms with a smile identical to his own. He winced as she jostled his form, but the smile never faded.

She felt an arm come around her shoulders and looked at her oldest child.

“I told you, mom. No big deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a Christmas gift to you all, I am going to allow my readers to vote on the ship for next chapter:  
> Raditz x Vegeta  
> Jeice x Vegeta  
> Goten x Vegeta  
> Yamcha x Vegeta


	6. Yamcha x Vegeta Pt. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would literally be thinking, I need to finish this fic for yall and all these other pairing ideas would crowd my brain. Then, when an idea came to mind, I'd sit to start writing and all motivation would expel from my body. I'm really sorry guys! Blame the Broly Movie lol (not really, this is my fault)

Yamcha couldn’t believe his eyes. He watched as the Saiyajin prince attempted to stand on his own feet amidst the rubble of the destroyed gravity ship, before falling flat on his face. In the little time he knew the guy, Yamcha had never seen him in such a weak state. And despite his current state, Vegeta was still worried about becoming stronger than Goku! Yamcha just didn’t get it. If he hated Goku so much, why did Bulma let him stay here? He vowed to one day kill one of her best friends!

Then again, here he was carrying the guy bridal style to the nearest hospital bed, behaving just as crazilly as the rest of the Briefs family. The loathe harbored for the man in his arms still shaped his overall perception of him, however another emotion had shifted Vegeta’s cold personality into something more complicated in Yamcha’s eyes. It may have been the pink shirt his genius of an ex forced him to wear upon his return to Earth. Or maybe the random times he caught the guy sneaking out with an armful of Mrs. Briefs’ famous desserts. Though, if Yamcha was completely honest with himself, his new view of the Saiyajin most likely came from watching him perform the near-suicidal tasks he disguised as training sessions day after day. Yamcha even decided to test it out himself one night - a choice his body regrets to this day. Still has kinks in his neck from the 300 G’s forced onto his vertebrae.

He admits to spying on the stout Saiyajin on more than one occasion. There was just this disturbing air of desperation hidden behind every frustrated tantrum and hoarse cry from the other man. He always imagined he would celebrate the day Vegeta’s haughty attitude became humbled by the reality of his situation. The bastard exalted himself as if he weren't the king of an endangered species and was chased off with his tail between his legs only months prior. Krillin had told him all about the battle between Goku and Vegeta, as well as the state the prince had been left in. Yamcha still hadn’t gotten all the details from their venture to Namek, but he had a feeling that Vegeta wasn’t one of the good guys.

All of these redflags that kept telling him the guy was a right bastard, who deserved all the misfortune that came his way. Yet, one statement from the Saiyajin was able to wash an ocean of sympathy over his shortcomings and bring to consciousness a moment he really wished he could forget.

Vegeta was sitting with his back against the console of the gravity ship, bruised and utterly fatigued from his nonstop training from twilight to dusk. His limbs hung loosely by his side as though they were made of lead and his chest heaved with every breath he took. Usually, the other went to the ship’s second level to probably shower after he was done training, but this time, Vegeta just sat there. Staring. Panting. Yamcha figured he was just particularly tired that day and was about to head out before he was caught peeping, when a single movement brought his eyes back to the lone figure.

Vegeta was hunched over between bent knees with his palms pressed against his eyes. He pulled away slightly to wipe at his face and slammed a fist into the floor next to him. Yamcha almost face-planted into the glass from his perch outside the window, when he finally realized the prince was crying. Vegeta. Crying. Sobbing, from the looks of it! Yamcha suddenly felt weird about spying on him all of a sudden, as if watching the man train for all those days wasn't voyeuristic enough.

He slowly backed away from the scene he beheld, not knowing what to do. He had a strange urge to comfort the man, but that was out of the question - unless he was looking for a death wish. He should just leave before the Saiyajin realized he had been seen.

So he did. And it’s haunted him ever since. It didn’t even make sense why it should even bother him that Vegeta, of all people, was crying. Good! Maybe now he understands what it feels like to be helpless and not enough…

Yamcha glanced down at the unconscious man in his arms. Not enough. Yamcha was privy to the looks his ex had been giving her new house guest and how little effort she put into mending their rocky relationship. He knew he wasn’t the most loyal boyfriend, but he sure as hell wasn’t a murderer. Yamcha sighed as he watched Bulma and some nurses roll a hospital bed towards him. Then again, perhaps she and Goku were best friends for a reason. Both forgiving way too easily and their hearts bleeding for miles on end. Maybe Yamcha had pulled the final straw.

But what did she see in Vegeta anyway? All he did was scream orders at her and start trouble. He’s actually never seen the two have a full conversation without raising their voices at one another.

He set the heavy body onto the gurney and allowed the medical personnel to take over. Bulma followed after them without giving him a second glance, or even acknowledging his assistance in the situation. He wasn’t needed anyway. He might as well get back to training.

_____________________________________________________

 

Vegeta awoke with tears in his eyes and his heart beating out his chest. Kakarot! Was the last thing he could remember. He knew he’d just had a nightmare, but the imagery was all jumbled and he couldn’t recall the exact scenario. It perturbed him that the other Saiyajin was plaguing him, even in his sleep now. The ingrate.

He paused in his motion to sit up, when he noticed another presence at his side. The woman was fast asleep with her head resting atop her folded arms. Not knowing what to make of that, he unhooked himself from the various wires and snatched the IV from his arm. The insertion site began to pool with blood, which he simply applied pressure to using a torn piece of the gauze surrounding his torso.

Wasting no time with needless conversation, Vegeta simply filled his stomach with a sufficient amount of food before seeking out the elder Briefs for repairs. He made sure not to twist too much, while walking or risk reopening a few of his wounds. A particular wound pulled tightly against his chest, feeling like the skin would separate at any moment, allowing the blood pumping from his heart to finally burst through the seams.

The explosion hadn’t erased the evidence of his failure. Months after Kakarot defeated Frieza and he was yet to even feel a fraction of that power he remembers washing over him on Namek. He’d actually congratulated the third-class, like a buffoon. For the fool to only halfway finish the job. Then that boy from the future appears out of nowhere and transforms into the legendary, effortlessly. He’s being taunted, and for what? To eventually be killed by some upgraded scouter parts?

A wave of dizziness crashed over him in that moment and Vegeta reached out to steady himself against a solid object. Seeing the other almost topple over, Yamcha grabbed onto his arm, instinctively, not really thinking of the consequences.

When Vegeta finally got his bearings, he focused on the grip on his arm and yanked it thoughtlessly. “Get off of me, you weakling!”

Yamcha blinked in surprise, but ultimately reach out to catch the man once more, before he fell backwards. “Look who’s talking! You can’t even stand up straight.”

Vegeta growled low in his throat and proceeded to struggle within the other’s grasp. “Don’t patronize me!”

He shoved the other man back a few paces, before needing to crouch against the wall for support. His head was beginning to pound from the unnecessary jarring and he blamed that scar-faced idiot for it all. Yamcha, on the other hand, was affronted by the stubborn man’s tough guy act, when he was so obviously impaired. It was pretty pointless, if anyone asked him.

“What the hell are you staring at?” Vegeta jabbed gruffly.

Yamcha placed his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest, cockily. “Nothing. Just wondering how long it’ll take you to ask for help.”

Baring his teeth in defiance, Vegeta attempted to straighten his posture. At the same time he felt a pop in the center of his chest. A warm stream of liquid began to radiate down his sternum and Vegeta’s eyes snapped down to find his dressing stained red. The damned scar on his chest had reopened.  
“Oh great,” Yamcha stated, taking a hold of Vegeta’s bicep. “You’ve gotta get that wound cleaned up and packed properly.”

Uncomfortable with the way the human was manhandling him, Vegeta shrugged his hand off. “I’m aware. I can do so comfortably in my quarters.”

Yamcha raised a brow incredulously. “Uhh, your quarters was destroyed along with the gravity ship. Did you forget?”

It was Vegeta’s turn to give the other a confused stare. “I meant the room the woman gave me upon our initial arrangement. How the hell do you know I sleep in the gravity room?”

Cursing himself at his big mouth, Yamcha only waved off the suspicion and backed away from the Saiyajin. “What do you mean? Everyone knows you practically live in there. Well, did.”

Feeling his eyebrow twitch in annoyance, Vegeta decided to drop the topic and actually do something about his bleeding chest.

“Whatever, just stay out of my way.”

Yamcha rolled his eyes at the unoriginal threat and glared at the back of the shorter man, as he stalked down the hall. He hadn’t thought Vegeta even remembered he had a room in the house, let alone where it was located. That feeling - a pulling sensation on his heart - stirred up in his chest again, as he watched the light limp in the warrior’s gait. Don’t do it, Yams, don’t even think about it.

Before he could even properly scold himself, Yamcha was following Vegeta up the stairs. He remained at a respectable distance, however was certain the younger Saiyajin could sense his presence. It actually amazed him that the other opted to ignore the extra presence, rather than cursing him back the way he came. When he got to his bedroom door, Vegeta stopped and heaved a sigh.

“I advise you not to take another step closer or I will blast you from here to New Namek.” Ah, Yamcha thought. There it is.

The scarred warrior just shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m just doing my reasonable service as a member of this household. Bulma has everyone on ‘monitor Vegeta’ duty.”

“Is that so…”

The prince actually seemed to have taken his joke seriously and was apparently pondering over this new development. Bulma, of course, would have definitely expected Yamcha to alert her to Vegeta’s awakened state and relay to her his current condition. However, Yamcha wasn’t really in a placating mood and was only doing this of his own weird conviction.

Vegeta wrinkled his nose at the shrill, nagging voice he knew would haunt him, should scarface relay a negative report to the woman. She’d probably convince her father to withhold repairs to the GR. That is if she were privy to that information. He’d have to threaten the old man somehow and get him to keep his trap shut. Scar-face, on the other hand, he’ll have to be more creative about. Anything that comes out of that weakling’s mouth would be seen as truth to the woman. What’s your goal here, Vegeta thought.

Yamcha blinked in surprise when he realized the prince left his bedroom door open as a subtle invitation. He walked into the room with caution, taking in the bland surroundings. Vegeta had definitely never spent one night in this room. Spider-webs were tucked in the corners of the walls and dust collected above every flat surface. He made a note to himself never to activate the fan - as if he would anyways.

When his eyes finished scanning the room, they locked with Vegeta’s, glowering at him from his perch on the edge of the bed.

“Go on,” He waved a hand, then sat it atop his bent knee. “I’m intrigued at this novel method of treatment. Acknowledge everything, but the problem and it’ll solve itself.”

The other’s mockery was beginning to grate on Yamcha’s nerves. “I was actually looking for the ointment and dressing you were planning to use without my help. Unless all of that was just a bluff to keep you from looking weak.”

“They’re in the bathroom across the hall.” The Saiyajin stated through clenched teeth.

As soon as the other was out of sight, Vegeta allowed his head to fall against his knee, clenching his eyes in pain at the growing intensity of his throbbing headache. His vision began to blur, before the room started spinning once again. What the hell…

Yamcha returned with an armful of supplies, a bit surprised that Vegeta's presumption was correct. Now to get the stubborn prince to actually cooperate with him.

“So first we'll have to remove the old gauze and see if you’ll need stitches for that wound. I know how to apply glue, but-”

When Yamcha glanced up from the material balancing in his grasp, he realized he was talking to no one. Vegeta was slumped over on the bed, apparently passed out. The Saiyajin was significantly more injured than he was letting on and Yamcha was glad he caught him when he did.

He pulled Vegeta’s form into a sitting position and pat his cheeks lightly, in an attempt to rouse him from unconsciousness. When Vegeta only continued to slump back into his original position, Yamcha maneuvered beside him on the bed so the Saiyajin was propped against his chest. He jerked his head aside, after getting a face-full of bushy brown hair. The other man didn’t seem disturbed by the rough handling, worrying Yamcha even more.

Yamcha hurriedly peeled away the soaked-through dressing and carefully removed the leftover material stuck to his chest. The stitches had come undone and the wound looked terrible - the blood leaking from it making its appearance that much worse. Although it was an ugly gash, the wound did not appear so deep as to cause shock and the blood loss was not nearly enough for someone to lose consciousness over. Did Vegeta have a concussion, Yamcha wondered, as he began cleaning around the wound. Maybe Goku’s hard-headedness wasn’t a Saiyajin trait, but just a Goku thing. It was a far stretch, but possible.

When the wound was thoroughly sterilized, Yamcha observed the other for a moment. He could attempt a shoddy job at suturing the laceration back up, however there was a possibility the brute would just repeat history. His eyes roved over the various scars which littered the Saiyajin’s torso and figured the other could deal with one more. As long as he kept the lac covered and clean, it should heal over time.

Getting to work, Yamcha shifted the other man partially into his lap to make it easier for him to properly wrap the other in dressing. Once he got the rhythm of it, it was only a matter of time before he needed to test how tightly he’d wrapped it. He tugged at the dressing, unwittingly pulling the opposite side against Vegeta’s wound. Vegeta instinctively winced and hid his face into the other’s neck.

“Whoops, sorry,” Yamcha mumbled, slightly loosening his work.

A sharp pain entered Vegeta’s chest at the same moment a flash of white burst behind his eyelids. He buried his face into the warmth surrounding him and took a calming breath. A waft of vanilla and coconut invaded his senses, reminding him of the treats that older woman often served. He heard a voice speaking to him and felt the rumble of the words reverberating through the other’s body. In his delirium, Vegeta only comprehended the comfort of a warm snack and familiar scent. It was almost like he could taste it.

Yamcha suddenly felt something warm and slick against his collarbone. He startled so hard, the Saiyajin in his lap almost fell over, but the arm at his back kept the other upright. Vegeta’s eyes were heavily lidded, fighting to stay open. He wasn’t sure if the other was even awake or if this was some sleeping spell because Vegeta was still pretty much dead weight in his arms.

He thanked whatever gods were watching and gently lay the Saiyajin across his bed. All he needed was some rest. Whatever that was before, doesn’t matter, Yamcha told himself. Vegeta won’t remember it anyways, so why stress over it? He’ll just have to warn Bulma of the Saiyajin’s odd behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry pt. 1 leaves you on a cliffhanger and kind of forces you to read pt. 2...I didn’t intend to do that, but I also don’t wish to keep you guys waiting for Yamcha/Vege content any longer. Why I decided to write about them during the one saga they surely hated each other idky, but I’m making it work...sort of. This will probably be my worst drabble :( But I’m finishing it for you guys! Pt. 2 is in the making's!!!


	7. Yamcha x Vegeta Pt. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yall~ Guess who's back with a new chapter! I know this took way too long and I really was trying to finish this for Valentine's Day, but with the upcoming snow storm tonight the creative juices just started burning hot like cocoa (can you tell I'm posting this at 3 AM). I will warn you of mild suicidal thoughts in this chap. I also have some fun questions at the end, so don't be afraid to give feedback! Hope you likey!

“Did he feel warm to you earlier?” An unfamiliar voice rang in Vegeta’s ears. “If he’s running a fever, then this may not be just a concussion.”

“Fever? Vegeta and Goku can get sick?” That’s the woman’s voice, Vegeta thought.

Bulma was indeed standing next to his comatose form in the bed. Yamcha stood in the doorway, giving his ex an annoyed glare. How the hell is he supposed to know that.

Ignoring Yamcha's cynicism, Bulma placed a hand beneath her chin in thought. “I guess it's not too far-fetched…”

The physician in the room raises a brow at the heiress’ confusion. “I understand he is a very healthy and extremely fit man, but he is still susceptible to sickness and disease.”

Breathing in deeply to prevent rolling her eyes and offending the poor clueless sap, Bulma only nodded offhandedly. “Yes, of course, it’s just surprising as he didn't appear sick at all before the accident. But when have viruses ever been predictable?”

She gasped at her own phrasing, then checked his vitals on the heart monitor with bated breaths.

Seeing no obvious abnormalities, she inquired of the doctor, “When you reviewed his screening results earlier, his heart enzymes were normal?”

The doctor scoffed. “Normal no, but similar to his previously recorded reports, it appears he was at his baseline.”

Nodding in comprehension, Bulma looked back at the Saiyajin resting in the bed. Yamcha knew what she had been concerned about. The future kid had warned them about some new heart virus Goku would acquire. And if Goku could get it, it was possible Vegeta could, as well. What an unfortunate way for a warrior’s journey to end.

“I think he should be monitored closely, especially if he's roaming the grounds on his own. As long as he rests, he should recover in due time.” The doctor assured.

Bulma thanked him as he took his leave and glanced at Vegeta before shuffling Yamcha out the door.

“As much as I'd love to watch over Vegeta, I have to make an appearance as the executive representative of Capsule Corp. at tomorrow's kickoff.” She batted her eyes pleasingly at her still smitten fancy.

“You have your mother here don't you? And what about the nurses in the hospital wing?” Yamcha tried.

“Would you let my mother take care of you? And there's no way in hell those nurses would stand a chance against Vegeta's stubbornness.”

“And you'd rather he be mad at me?!”

Bulma dropped her helpless act and scowled heatedly. “What are you scared?”

“Scared of who? All I'm saying is Vegeta's a grown ass man. He shouldn't need to be babysat and placed in timeout.” Her shoulders hiked up as she crossed her arms in silent anger, steering Yamcha to try a different tactic. “I'll check in on him every now and then, but don't expect me to be at his every beck and call.”

So that was how Yamcha found himself creeping into the Saiyajin prince's room at 2:00 in the morning. He'd totally forgotten to check back with Vegeta before going to bed. If he hadn’t woken up to take a piss, Bulma’s morning call would have definitely been the next thing he’d be hearing. Earlier that day, Vegeta had taken the medication meant to regulate his temperature. The nurses told him that his fever was spiking every couple hours. With a fluctuating temp, Yamcha doubted the Saiyajin would be going anywhere soon. He hadn’t realized how true that line of thought had been.

He could hear the heavy breathing of someone fast asleep. Yamcha was certain the other would have woken up at his presence had he been well. The bed sheets had been thrown aside and likely kicked to the floor in a feverish frenzy. His legs were splayed wide open, the spandex covering his nether regions leaving nothing to imagination. Vegeta probably wouldn’t even be able to identify an undergarment if you asked him, Yamcha thought.

A tell-tell sign that the recovering man was probably not getting the best sleep was the heaving of his chest with every breath. His breathing was very labored, almost coming out as pants, now that Yamcha was paying close attention. Turning on the bedside lamp further illuminated Vegeta’s sweat-soaked face.

Without thinking, Yamcha reached out to wipe away the other's sweat with the sleeve of his nightshirt. Seeing Vegeta in such a vulnerable state reminded Yamcha of the tiny form he'd found crying on the floor of the gravity room.

Yamcha paused as the other's brow furrowed at the disturbance. Vegeta had been trying to remain as still as possible to keep himself cool. He'd heard another person enter his room, whom he assumed to be one of the aides coming to check on their patient. He was keen on ignoring the intruder until they decided to add to his suffering by placing a warm hand against the side of his face.

Squinting through the agony, Vegeta recognized the shaggy mane of that weakling. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but he blamed him. Him and those Kami-damned dreams and that stupid accident. He was supposed to be training to defeat the androids. And after them, he’d defeat Kakarot and that annoying kid from the future. Was he just a joke to the gods?

First his biggest rival defeats Frieza, then some no-name Saiyajin arrives and takes his vengeance yet again. All those years gone to waste. No blood on his hands, no empire, no sense of victory. The tyrant dead and gone and still freedom’s as surreal a concept as it was back then…

“Whoa-whoa-whoa,” The hand returned, this time petting Vegeta’s hair hesitantly. “Hey, Vegeta, wake up. Vegeta!”

Vegeta frowns in confusion, baffled at the way Yamcha's face contorted in concern.

“I am awake you buffoon.” That seems to bring the other back to himself and Yamcha sits back on his heels, bringing his hands back to his side.

“Well, then why are you crying?” He asked in a whisper.

Once again caught unawares, Vegeta felt for said tears. He turned away to wipe away the evidence, silently relieved the world didn't tilt at the sudden movement. Had he said all of that aloud? Why was the other here in the first place? He had half a mind to chew the other’s head off, but Yamcha wouldn’t let him change the subject so easily.

“You said something about freedom…” Yamcha was unsure if he should be treading on such thin ice, but he couldn’t smother the curiosity.

Vegeta opened his eyes and glared at the other, as best he could. All the while, he was panting as if he’d just finished a grueling session in the GR. “Where’s the aide? I need more of that solution...the-the…”

He was so hot! It burned him up to even speak full sentences. It was worse now that he was sitting upright. Whatever the hell was going on with his body was impairing his ability to function. At this rate, he was going to faint from heat stroke, instead of the loopiness that overcame him earlier in that day. He swiped away whatever fabric was still covering his legs and grabbed onto his ankles for leverage. He felt himself weakening with every small movement and was trying to keep his torso from touching the sweat-soaked sheets.

Feeling pity for the sick man before him, Yamcha moved the other’s pillow onto the floor and scooped the slighter form into his arms. He earned an elbow to the ribs, followed by an unintelligible groan of protest.

“Just bear with it a bit,” The scarred man muttered through clenched teeth.

Vegeta was sick of being lifted and touched all over by prying hands. Where the hell was the weakling even take-!

Vegeta’s eyes flew wide open, as a painfully blissful chill came in contact with the diaphoretic skin of his back. He instinctively arched his back so only his exposed shoulders and feet touched the ground. But once the icy sting of shock wore off, he realized how relieving the flat surface was for his symptoms.

Yamcha watched the tension melt from Vegeta’s body, an amused smile stretching across his face as the other attempted to become one with the wood flooring. He allowed the other to lay in silence, not even a creak from the floorboards disturbing the tranquil night. Vegeta’s breathing had steadied as his temperature settled. Yamcha was beginning to wonder if the other had fallen asleep on the hardwood floor.

Vegeta opened his eyes to briefly check out the empty space beside him, lazily rolling onto his stomach with his cheek pressed to the floor. A satisfied groan, sounding much like a needy whine, escaped him, leaving Yamcha feeling a bit awkward. He’d never seen Vegeta leave himself so open in the presence of others. The warrior was always on high alert and tensed for any sign of opposition.

A particular spot at the base of Vegeta’s back caught his attention. The area was dingy and discolored, slightly raised from the skin. Scarce strands of fur created peach-fuzz along the surface of the damaged patch of skin. Yamcha assumed that was where his missing tail had been attached. There were some pretty nasty scars along the prince’s back, but the tail scar definitely stood out.

I really shouldn’t be doing this, Yamcha thought as his hand inched closer to its destination. Before common sense could talk him out of his actions, the pads of his fingers gently caressed the rough patch of skin.

“Heeuhh-!”

Vegeta let out a choked-off gasp as his back contorted sharply at a painfully tense angle, violent shivers wracking his body as his back became almost perpendicular to the ground. Yamcha’s shocked form could only observe his reaction in terrified fascination. A swirl of arousal stirred up his loins at the breathy moan that escaped the prince’s lips. When the sound echoed back to his ears, Vegeta’s consciousness came to full alertness. With deeply seated humiliation, Vegeta turned around with a menacing growl. His arms came up defensively, legs tucked beneath him as if he were preparing to pounce.

Fully comprehending the situation he was in, Yamcha raised his hands helplessly with wide eyes. “I-I-I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done that! I just- I-,”

Yamcha really didn’t have an excuse for whatever possessed him to do such a thing and to be frankly honest he was horrified to find near death wasn’t a turn-off for him. He shifted to make the heavy imprint of his bone through his sweatpants less obvious. Vegeta’s eyes shifted downward at the very conspicuous movement and his eyes widened crazily.

“Are you- do you want to be blasted into oblivion?!” Vegeta squawked in incredulity, voice cracking at the edges.

Yamcha winced at the slight tremble in the other’s voice, knowing he must have failed at covering up his problem. “No! I~ I’ll just go back to my room. I’m staying in the guest room down the hall.”

As if the other cared where he’d be sleeping. The longer he remained in Vegeta’s line of sight, the more sure he was that the other would follow through on the threat. He scurried from the room without a second thought, mentally berating himself for that isolated moment of insanity. Moving so suddenly jostled the tip of his cock against the fabric of his boxers, further adding to his despair. Once behind the closed door of his own room, Yamcha allowed himself to let out a tired sigh. So much for checking up on him. Although he appeared to be doing better, Yamcha had no way of telling if Vegeta’s temperature had improved - not to mention the other hadn’t even been sleeping when he’d shown up. Between the sickness and his injuries, it was probably near impossible to get a good night’s rest.

Yamcha was starting to feel guilty, which in turn was helping to diminish his libido. He couldn’t believe Vegeta’s sex voice made him horny. Vegeta, of all people! Yamcha shook his head with a disgusted shudder. Perhaps he was sleep-walking; it’d sure explain all of these crazy ideas.

_________________________________

That fool! Touching the prince of all Saiyajins in such a sacred place, Vegeta fumed. In Saiyajin culture, it was forbidden for anyone without the intentions or wherewithal to effectively court a potential mate to grab a Saiyajin at the base of their tails. Kiwi had done it once by accident in the past and Vegeta had crumbled to the his knees with the intensity of his sudden arousal. The first time it happened, Vegeta had blasted off the side of a building off from shock. The feeling was completely novel to the Vegeta who had yet to even begin experimenting with his sexuality at the time. Nappa had to calm his nerves and awkwardly explain this strange phenomenon to the young prince, at the time.

No one had touched him there in the aftermath of his tail being sliced off by that tubby hedgehog. His own touch only seemed to send a trickle of arousal through his groin, whenever he’d masturbated in the past. Something about the contact of a foreign appendage to that sensitive region set off his whole nervous system. And what had just transpired! His body shivered in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He parted his knees and pulled the band of his shorts away from his skin. A messy tangle of sperm criss-crossed between the spandex of his shorts and his glistening skin. He’d never experienced a wave so powerful the other times he’d been touched there. His dick was hardening again at the excitement of that recent event. His body was overheating for a different reason now and he honestly didn’t know if this was better. At this rate he’d pass out again, and that would be pathetic.

No, he thought. That weakling will take responsibility for what he caused. If I can’t will away this fever, then I can at least get over this apparent rut. Vegeta hadn’t had many intimate partners in the past, but he knew how to quickly sate his needs were they to ever get out of hand, like this.

Removing his sticky shorts, Vegeta marched from his room, basking in the chill of the corporation’s industrial hallways. Following the sweet scent of that concupiscent idiot, Vegeta burst the door open and surveyed the contents of the room. Light from the connected bathroom poured over one half of the room, Yamcha’s shadow confirming his location. He stepped into the doorway to inspect the source of the ruckus and was slammed into the door with bruising force.

Lips roughly slid against his own, teeth drawing blood and shallow breaths filling the air. Yamcha shoved at his offender with all the strength he could muster in his state of confusion and pressed his lips into a hard line. Feeling the other’s resistance, Vegeta pulled away from his sexual onslaught and opted for giving his prey a simmering stare.

“You fucking prick! How dare you touch my tail scar!” Yamcha’s eyes automatically scoped out the angry boner poking him in his thigh and immediately snapped his focus back at the eyes of a very furious Vegeta. “You made me like this, now finish what you started.”

Yamcha couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The fuck?” He parried the stronghold the prince had against his chest and tensed up for a possible fight. “I’m not some pussy who’ll just lay there and take it up the ass. And I sure as hell ain’t about to let some dickwad rape me!”

Vegeta appeared scandalized. “Rape?! That’s rich coming from someone who just molested a warrior while he was down!”

Anger and embarrassment flushed Yamcha’s cheeks pink and he sputtered, “I had no idea it would cause that type of reaction! I was wrong, okay!”

Something within Vegeta’s chest clenched at the other’s desperate plea, but he ignored the feeling. “Bullshit! I’m burning to a crisp because of you. Either you lay down and take it or I’ll let you explain my rising fever to the woman.”

Fuck! Shit! Yamcha seethed. Knowing Vegeta, he’d make him sound like the creepiest perv in history.

“Why don’t you just take a cold shower?” He tried.

Vegeta crossed his arms, anticipating the inevitable. “A Saiyajin’s rut cannot be satiated through mechanical means. Unless a knot is milked dry or the compounds which make up semen react with a Sayaijin’s most inner secretions, the rut could last for days. Seeing as you are but a mere weakling, I’ll just have to rely on the latter choice.”

Yamcha tried to process everything he’d just heard.

“So what’ll it be: the woman or my ass?” When he was met with silence, Vegeta shook with rage. “Choose now before I change my mind and decide to simply blast you all!”

“Hold on! This isn’t an easy ask, alright? Give a guy some time.”

Yamcha didn’t want to tip Vegeta off with his newfound insight, but he was beginning to connect the dots. As assertive as Vegeta wanted to appear on the outside, Yamcha could tell in the trembling of his hands and the shiftiness of his eyes that the other was more disturbed than he was letting on. His action born from ignorance truly struck a chord within Vegeta and, even though he was offering himself up to Yamcha, this was not a casual fling for him. This was a nightmare come back to haunt him. And Yamcha was going to find out what that was. His days of spying on the prince brought him this far; he might as well follow this hunch to the end.

Placing on a brave face, Yamcha smirked smugly. “If Chi-Chi can take it, I sure as hell can.” Damn, did he never want those words to form a phrase like that ever again, in his lifetime.

At Vegeta’s shell-shocked expression, Yamcha’s confidence dwindled slightly.

“Just make sure Bulma never finds out about this - any of this.”

He stated as he removed his shirt and sat on his bed. Yamcha was beginning to feel really dumb, as Vegeta remained in the same spot. He kicked off his sweatpants in the meantime and sent the other an annoyed look. He’d still yet to move from the doorway, while Yamcha was sitting on the bed half-naked. He shouldn’t have felt strange since the other was buck naked, but it didn’t help that Vegeta was as unashamed in the nude as Goku.

At the cautious stare of his counterpart, Vegeta cleared his throat and stepped up to the other in bed. He shoved Yamcha onto his back and tore away the obstructing garments covering his goal. The scar-faced man shivered beneath his touch and Vegeta wasted no time laving a considerable amount of saliva onto his fingers. He avoided looking into the other’s face and instead focused on preparing his entrance.

The fighter was definitely inexperienced in this department and - if the way the other beared down like he was taking the largest shit of his life was anything to go by - his anus was untouched. Yamcha clutched onto the sheets in discomfort, as two fingers stretched him further and further open. He hissed between clenched teeth whenever Vegeta added a harsh twist while pulling his fingers out. There were a few awkward moments where he felt like Vegeta was probing around for something and he just wanted the fingers out, at that point. Soon enough, his wish was granted, but only for the real deal to take its place.

Yamcha always thought anal sex would be painful, but this was fucking ridiculous! The friction of spit and precum was not enough to prepare him for the massive stretch to accomodate Vegeta’s cock. 

“Hwhoa- ShitgotdamnkamilovingmotherofDENDE! That fucking hurts!” Yamcha screamed, very unlady-like.

Vegeta winced at the others tight hold on his cock and slapped a hand against the side of his partner’s thigh. “Ease up, you dolt! You’ll snap my dick off.”

“Take it out! It hurts!”

“Of course it hurts! There’s a fucking dick in your asshole!”

Yamcha squeezed his eyes shut and prayed no one else was privy to this humiliating debacle. Vegeta sighed and leaned forward, seating himself completely inside Yamcha’s tightness.

Bracing his hands on either side of Yamcha’s head, Vegeta spoke in an calm tone, “Listen. The pain is only temporary, breathe with the movement of my hips, exhaling as I thrust in.”

They stared into each other’s faces as they synced their breathing pattern with one another. Yamcha mimicked the way Vegeta’s head was bobbing and grimaced at the glide of his cock against the walls of his anus. As his breaths became more even, Vegeta decided to stroke into his heat and Yamcha’s breath was stolen by the ease with which the throbbing appendage slid to the hilt. A tingling sensation began to build up in his testicles, as the pounding thrusts met its target each time. He still wasn’t overcome in ecstasy, but the pain had subsided considerably.

Yamcha hadn’t realized he zoned out, until he felt cool droplets dotted along his chest and abdomen. He refocused on Vegeta’s face, expecting to see it drenched in sweat, but tensed up at the tears gathered along thick lashes, occasionally spilling over due to gravity. Feeling the other’s iron grip on his cock, Vegeta stopped his thrusts and slumped onto his elbows, face level with Yamcha’s chest.

“Dammit - dammit it all to hell!” Vegeta cursed at no one in particular. “I can’t- i-it’s not enough.”

Yamcha grunted as he moved backwards to release Vegeta’s dick from his ass. He grabbed onto Vegeta’s arms and tried to force him to look him in the eye.

Vegeta swallowed past the lump in his throat and continued to speak through his tears. “I finally get to be in control for once in my fucking life and I can’t even enjoy this. Is this hell? Is my eternal punishment to always be a fucking sip away from fulfillment, only to wilt away from thirst?” He released a weary chuckle beneath his breath. “I thought Kakarot pathetic to eventually be done in by a virus, but at least that’s more honorable than being killed by some filthy pieces of scrap metal. It’s almost merciful that I’m currently burning to death.”

Yamcha wondered if Vegeta’s temperature was reaching dangerous heights again. Who the hell was this self-pitying wreck? This is Vegeta, he realized. The same self-destructive brat that spends his days beating himself into a discomfited pulp.

Yamcha grabbed a hold of Vegeta’s hips and maneuvered him onto his back, anchoring his knees into the bed on either side of the prince.

“You know, there’s usually more than one way to reach a goal.

Tears slipped between the creases at the corner of his eyes. “It’s less cruel to die before my time rather than to live following a lie that would never come to fruition, anyhow.”

Yamcha felt anger well-up in his chest at the defeatist words which continued to spill from his counterpart’s lips. He lowered himself, so their needs aligned with one another, roughly pumping their cocks in quick motions to rekindle his arousal. His lips hovered just above Vegeta’s, their shaky breaths mingling in the tiny space between.

He hiked Vegeta’s legs up, so they rested against his quads and slicked his fingers with more saliva, although they were already coated with a layer of both his and Vegeta’s precum.

“Then let me be the cause.”

The foreplay was deliberate and carefully executed, until Vegeta was half-lidded and panting with abandon. Vegeta had wrapped his arms around Yamcha’s shoulders and buried his face in his neck, once more - Yamcha coming to understand this gesture as a calming fix for the Saiyajin. He didn’t know why the hell he was attempting to comfort the brash prince, but being afforded a glimpse into the guy’s most inner thoughts made Yamcha want to soothe those worries. He had no idea how to pleasure a man, but he’d show the prince losing control was not as bad as he perceived it to be.

Vegeta bit into the sensitive skin of his neck as Yamcha’s cock slid straight to home base. The rhythmic pulsing around his member left Yamcha gaping at the sensation and couldn’t help the spasmic thrusting of his hips before starting a deep, steady beat against Vegeta’s asscheeks. The sound of his balls making skin to skin contact echoed throughout the room, along with Vegeta’s moans.

After a particularly grinding stroke, the walls encasing his cock suddenly quaked with vibrations and Vegeta threw his head back with a glassy stare and a choppy moan. Yamcha wrapped an arm behind the other and pulled the smaller body flush with his own. His hand slid down Vegeta’s back in search of his prize.

He placed his lips against the shell of the other’s ear and muttered, “Sometimes we have to lose ourselves to finally tap into the potential that was already there.”

Fingers splayed out across his lower back, Yamcha ground Vegeta into the bed at the same moment he started massaging his tail scar. He couldn’t even muster the strength to thrust at the insane amount of pleasure that surrounded his cock. Yamcha felt his balls draw tight with pre-orgasmic tension, his mouth hanging open in with shuddering moans. Vegeta’s body convulsed beneath him, bucking wildly with his head thrown back in a breathless scream. Agonizingly blinding euphoria crashed over his being! Off-white stickiness made a mess of their squished abdomen, adding to the dried cum already decorating Vegeta’s netheregion.

Vegeta’s voice returned to him as a strangled whimper, sobbing into the side of Yamcha’s neck. That knocked Yamcha outta-the-park and earned him the home-run of orgasms. His voiced pitched higher as he screamed out his pleasure and rammed his cock into Vegeta’s thrumming grotto of ecstasy until the other began convulsing with a third orgasm. Yamcha didn’t want to stop; the feeling of sinking into that vibrating heat again and again was addicting!

When the pain from overstimulation began overpowering the feeling of pleasure, Yamcha finally slipped his soft, shrunken dick from Vegeta’s trembling hole. Vegeta’s eyes were half-lidded and he was taking stilted breaths as the quakes of orgasmic release worked its way out of his system. Some of his hair had matted to his forehead and Yamcha swept it back to its original orientation, brushing a thumb along his widow’s peak.

He, himself, was pretty exhausted and could barely keep his eyes open. Leaning down, he attempted to place a languid kiss upon the other’s lips, but Vegeta turned his head to the side. Yamcha stared at his profile with minor disappointment, not really offended by the silent rejection.

“...Thank you..” Vegeta whispered, before closing his eyes.

Yamcha blinked a few times to be sure he wasn’t already dreaming, then smiled down at the sleeping prince. He buried his face into the other’s neck and took in the scent of their coupling and a faint trace of vanilla. Interesting, he thought. We must use the same soap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was all over the place and very weird lol I didn't know whether I wanted them to have an angry fuck or cluster fuck XD But I'm interested to hear your theories on Geta's behavior in this fic and my depiction of Yams.
> 
> Intuitive Questioning:
> 
> 1\. Which plot in my drabbles is your favorite and why?  
> 2\. Which smut chapter was your fave and why?  
> 3\. Which of my Vegeta's fits Toriyama's characterization of Vegeta best?  
> 4\. Which Vegeta fit your personal view of Vegeta?  
> 5\. What don't you like about my writing (besides inconsistency with updating *cry, cry*)?  
> 6\. What do you like about my writing?
> 
> These are opinions I'm honestly really curious about. Please answer these, if you have time!!


	8. Raditz x Vegeta Pt. I

_A skinny lad with a spiky black mane stood with his back to Goku. A fuzzy brown tail twirled lazily behind him._

_Who- Raditz? Where am I? Goku thought._

_His vision was a bit hazy around the edges, but his arm unknowingly reached out to yank the other Saiyajin's appendage without a care for gentleness. He didn't do that! The kid who resembled his brother started at the disturbance and turned to glare at the culprit. His mouth opened and closed around colorful expletives, Goku was sure, but no sound reached his straining ears._

_Seconds later, he began to hear something, but the syllables did not match the movement of the other's lips. The louder the voice got, the more familiar it became._

“Goku! Goku!”

The Earth-raised Saiyajin opened his eyes to an angry Chi-Chi. Her hands were fixed on her hips in a show of barely restrained frustration.

“So now that there’s no tournament to train for or world to save, you’re going to sleep your days away? At least get up and accompany our son to and from school.”

Blinking away the sleep from his mind,, Goku processed his wife's words. “But isn't Goten just going to Capsule Corp?”

“Exactly, and do you know who else is at Capsule Corp? Trunks! Just last week his instructor informed me that Goten was no longer in his class because he had been promoted to an advanced STEM program by the ruling of Dr. Briefs.”

“That's great isn't it,” Goku replied, while scratching an itch on his inner thigh.

“No, because it's a load of bull-crap!” Chi-Chi raised a hand holding a sheet of paper from her hip. “These are Goten's grades from earlier in the year. How the heck is he a candidate for a STEM program? I called Bulma to get to the bottom of this and apparently Trunks had forged Goten's name on documentation so they could be in the same classes.

“Trunks is on punishment currently and Goten is back in his appropriate level of study.” She rolled the paper back up and pointed a finger at her husband. “Now I know this is a lot to ask of you, but I need you to stay at Capsule Corp until Goten's classes are finished. That way I know he's going straight from home to school and back.”

“Are you saying that I can even train with Vegeta while I'm there?” Goku asked with barely concealed excitement.

“As long as you don't forget about Goten.”

“Eeeee~ Thanks Chi-Chi!” He exclaimed, smacking a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“Yeah, yeah, go before I change my mind.”

_______________________________________________

Goku enjoyed the fresh air of the troposphere as it whipped past his face. Goten stood just behind him, bearing the weight of his body against the length of Goku’s back. His arms hung loosely around his father’s shoulders, eyes closed in contentment and a goofy smile glued onto his face. Goku’s face mirrored a similar expression, basking in the nostalgia the moment evoked.

He allowed himself to daydream, reminiscing on the times he and Gohan would ride along the horizon with no specific destination in mind.

_“Wanna see me do a loop?” A kid’s voice questioned._

_A deeper, more matured voice replied, “Boy, you’d better not-,”_

_“Watch and learn!”_

_A delighted shout rang throughout the small pod Goku currently sat in. It reminded him of the Saiyajin pod he used to escape from Namek. The viewing window showed an array of asteroids and stars whisking past as he apparently flew through space. Another space pod blasted from somewhere behind his own, leaving a swirling trail of red rocket fumes in its wake._

_Goku felt himself shake with mirth, a vaguely familiar chuckle erupting from his throat._

_“When we land, your ass is being placed on hunting duty.” The angry gruff voice yelled through the intercom._

_“Not if I get there first! I bet I can have half the planet leveled before you slowpokes land.” Came the boyish reply._

_“Aww, let him have his fun, Nappa.” Another voice chimed in. “It’s not everyday you get assigned to the prince’s guard as a mere kit.”_

_For some reason, that statement didn’t sit right with Goku, irritation building up in his chest._

_The voice, supposedly belonging to Nappa, replied, “And a third class to boot. What was King Vegeta thinking?”_

_“I requested him! Any more of my orders you’d like to question, Nappa?”_

_Goku startled at the voice that had just come out of his mouth and blinked at his current surroundings. Goten was leaping off of Nimbus and making a dash for the building’s front entrance, twirling in the air to give his dad a quick wave before skipping through the doors. He waved back numbly, as his mind tried to piece together his most recent daydream._

_The intonations in the voice that was and wasn’t his own held an uncanny familiarity to it. He couldn’t for the life of him match it with any of the voices he remembered hearing in his all of his lifetimes._

“Kakarot!”

Goku’s eyes flew open to the size of saucers as realization smacked him across the head. Namely, in the form of a stiff-bodied, short and grumpy Saiyajin.

Vegeta stood in his signature pose, arms folded across his chest, as he glared at his rival from the ground. “Why the hell do you look so surprised? I’ve been standing here for over two minutes.”

Goku rubbed at the old scar on the back of his head, where he'd bumped his head as a child. He couldn't have hit his head again, right?

He tried to let out a weak laugh, that only made him sound even more suspicious. “Ahehehe, sorry Vegeta. Daydreaming y'know?”

Obviously not appreciating the quip, Vegeta gave him a side long glare, before turning his back to him. “Bulma's in the lab. I'm sure you'll get an earful if she finds out you were here and didn't let her know.”

Goku hopped off Nimbus and waved goodbye to the sightless cloud as he followed Vegeta I to the building. “Yeah, I guess I should, huh?” He glanced over Vegeta's frame and noticed he wasn't wearing his gi. “So what are you up to?”

“About to eat breakfast.” He stated, stopping in front of an elevator.

“Aah,” Goku hummed conversationally.

Vegeta attempted to ignore the other in hopes he would soon be left to his own devices. The elevator dinged as the doors slid open and they both stepped into the narrow box. Vegeta flattened his hand against the fingerprint scanner, which allowed access to the domestic quarters. He glanced at the control panel, eyes catching onto the unpressed button to the lab.

“And what business brings you here, Kakarot?” He inquired, trying to keep the interest out of his voice.

“Well, Chi-Chi wants me to bring Goten to and from school after getting in trouble the last time, so I was hoping I could spar with you until he’s done with class.”

“Oh really,” He looks up at the other with a raised brow. “And if I say no?”

“Uhh, do you?”

Vegeta finally allowed a smirk to settle across his face. “Just give me 15 minutes.”

____________________

 

As expected of them, Goku and Vegeta fell into an easy pattern. The first hour following Goku’s arrival, they sat immersed in their own thoughts as they meditated side by side. Afterwards, they’d spar for hours until Goten interrupted them through the intercom. Or at least until one of the two got hungry because he ate an early breakfast - which was usually Vegeta, seeing as he awoke at the crack of dawn everyday to train. When those days came, Goku would coax the other into relaxing for the remainder of their time together by doing whatever leisurely task came to mind.

Goku was secretly hoping this was one of those days, as his mind wandered to a soothing hot spring at the base of a snowy mountain they could bask in. A smile settled along his face as he thought of the contrasting sting of the mountain air against his skin to the enveloping warmth of Earth’s natural bath. He was so far into his meditation that his subconscious conjured up an imagery so realistic, he could almost feel the water rising from hips to waist to his chest as he lowered himself into the spring.

_“Everything’s fine. You’re going to be okay, okay? I’ve got you.”_

_That was Raditz voice. Goku understood that now and immediately recognized it. Why did he sound so panicked, though? And who was he talking to?_

_“Nappa and Kwasa are finishing up the mission, they should be back in no time. Once we get back to 126, you’ll be able to into a real regen tank. Until then, this should do.”_

_A stinging pain seared through Goku’s body, seeping into his bones with the intensity of the shock. He realized he was surrounded by water - warm water. He opened his eyes and saw Raditz gazing down at him worriedly. A hand brushed his bangs from out of his eyes and Raditz kept it sitting atop his forehead to Goku’s comfort. He shut his eyes again, not of his own accord, and sighed as the pain slowly ebbed away into a dull ache._

_“Are you still awake?” Raditz asked, hesitantly._

_Goku heard himself grunt in affirmation._

_“Good.”_

_For some reason, Goku wanted to hear his own voice. He was curious to see if that same brash tone from before would be plucked from the string of his vocal cords or if his speech would glide off his tongue as eloquently as the last time. Was he Vegeta, or was he someone else? Was this real, or not?_

_All questions in his head, but there was no way for him to speak them outrightly for his brother to hear. He’d answer him, right? His eyes opened once more, staring at the profile of his brother. Raditz was no longer looking at him with that concerned gaze, but staring off into space. Or most likely scanning the area for those other people he named. Nappa...He was with Vegeta the first time he’d come to Earth. Vegeta killed him…_

_Straying away from those confusing thoughts, Goku focused on the present moment. Raditz was nowhere nearly as imposing as he’d been that day he arrived on Earth. The warrior was a lot smaller in stature and rounder in the face. Muscles not fully developed and armor covering more than just the bare necessities. The other removed his hand from where it rested against his head and stood to remove his armor. Kicking off his boots, he entered the warm pool settling next to Goku’s form._

_Goku’s eyes closed as he allowed his body to lean against the other’s shoulder._

_“Let me know if you start to overheat.” Goku’s heart fluttered at the feel of the other’s breath so near to his ear. What was that? Raditz continued, oblivious to the other’s thoughts. “I hear these types of waters are good for the skin. I just assumed it’d help with wounds, too.”_

_Goku had the strongest urge to bury his face in his brother’s neck at that moment. He held back, but he knew it was because of the body he was in. Whoever he was wanted to be surrounded by Raditz warmth; he wanted to stay here with Raditz, forever. The faint thought drifted across the forefront of his mind. Were Vegeta and Raditz really that close? Why was Vegeta hurt? Where were they? He’d never thought to ask about Vegeta’s past, before coming to Earth. Vegeta never brought it up or reminisced much._

“What are you thinking about, Kakarot?”

Goku felt as if consciousness smacked his square in the face, snatching his soul back into his physical body. His eyes were wide with shock and slightly nervous. He’d never experienced that in meditation before - at least not without his knowledge. It almost felt like when he connected telepathically with Gohan, Krillin, or King Kai. Why was Vegeta scowling at him like that? When did he move to crouch in front of him?

“I felt you in my mind. What were you thinking?” Vegeta clarified.

“Ahh…” Goku spoke more to himself than anything. So his intuition wasn’t wrong. He’d been reaching out to Vegeta, but how? He hadn’t been trying to. Goku stated that much to Vegeta.

That only earned him a skeptical look in return. “What did you see?”

That he wasn’t too sure of. Goku hesitated before replying, which must’ve been too long for Vegeta’s patience.

“What did you see?” A distraught and almost hurt look displayed across Vegeta’s features and Goku felt weirdly guilty. Goku wasn’t snooping intentionally - he didn’t know what the cause was.

Goku balled his fists into the fabric at his knees and twisted his face into a pout. “Vegeta, I honestly can’t make anything from what I saw. I was with my brother in a hot spring and I was injured. There really wasn’t anything else to it.”

Vegeta’s eyes seemed to dull listening to his explanation, using a few moments to merely examine him. After being satisfied with what he found, Vegeta nodded to himself and then stood with a stretch.

“You’re right. There’s nothing to make of that. I was often injured on missions, purposefully, to get a Zenkai boost. Raditz was ordered to watch over my body until I recovered.” He closed his eyes as he stretched an arm across his torso.

Goku felt like Vegeta was pretending to be open for some reason, which truly confused him. Did he really not care to speak of his past? “Oh, okay. I didn’t really think much of it anyway.”

Because the atmosphere had become so stiff, Goku decided to steer away from that topic. It wasn’t like Vegeta to be so direct. Usually he evaded and dodged. Was Goku missing something?

That day the sparring was particularly brutal, something Goku expected and was glad to have as a distraction. Their strikes went straight for weak spots, providing no room for mistakes. Any openings in the other’s defenses were fair game and immediately preyed upon. Ki blasts were kept to a minimum, leaving the brunt of their damage to hand-to-hand combat.

Goku placed most of his power in his punches, smashing a fist into Vegeta’s crossed forearms and bruising the skin there. He caught Vegeta with a left hook, slamming him to the ground from the impact. Vegeta instinctively caught himself with both hands, and used his legs to swipe Goku’s feet from beneath him. With the momentum of his swinging legs, Vegeta spun his legs back around and brought his heel down with the force of 100x gravity onto Goku’s landing hand.

The younger warrior screamed out in pain, tucking the injured hand to his chest and falling onto his left shoulder. Using the same foot, Vegeta kicked Goku in the chest, causing his body to skid across the floor and crash into the far wall. Goku looked up just in time to see a knee flying towards his face. Seeing his opening, Goku used the knee as leverage to move aside and placed a palm against Vegeta’s belly. Goku smirked in triumph at the shocked look on the other’s face and released energy straight into his rival’s abdomen.

Vegeta’s body tumbled gracelessly across the floor, until he landed on his back, body spread-eagled and a knee bent in the air. Goku tried to move the fingers in his left hand, but stopped as soon as a sharp pain tingled its way up his extremity. He limped over to Vegeta and watched as the other lay there, chest heaving from exhaustion.

“You lost yourself there, a bit, huh?” Goku teased lightly.

 

A weak laugh escaped Vegeta’s lips and he grimaced in pain. “And you took full advantage of that.”

Feeling a bit lightheaded, Goku beamed brightly down at the other. For whatever reason, Vegeta’s approval felt different that day. Still playfully begrudging, but also something else. Vegeta shut his eyes in realization and turned his head away from the other. What the hell am I doing, he thought. He knew what he’d just done; he’d been flirting. Luckily, Goku was too doped up on adrenaline to notice.

Why did he see a memory of Raditz? Was I thinking of him at the time, Vegeta wondered. I usually don’t, anymore, especially when Kakarot’s around…It hurts too much..

_Vegeta found himself hovering above a field of corpses in an ironic representation of how he currently felt, in that moment. He and Nappa had just begun to wrap up their most recent mission, when the feed from Raditz’s scouter bleared noisily in his ear. Desperation and fear pierced through Vegeta’s gut and he instantly focused all his energy on muting their bond. For the next few moments, Vegeta refused to move a muscle, afraid that the slightest rustle would drown out the tell-tale sound of his mate’s survival. That third class said his brother had been shipped off as a cub because he was weak! You’re telling me a backwater planet, with the average power level of a worm, was able to produce warriors capable enough to stand against a seasoned Saiyajin?_

_“Ka-karot! How could you?” Vegeta’s heart sank at the unabashed anguish that painted Raditz’s words. “How could you?!”_

_Angry tears welled up in Vegeta’s eyes as he wondered the same. His own flesh and blood, utterly rejecting his brother without any preamble. He came to you for help and this is how you respond?_

_Vegeta’s inner turmoil was interrupted by the unfamiliar voice of another._

_“Goku won’t be gone for long, we’ll see to it that he’s back within the week.”_

_...What?_

_“What? That’s impossible...” Raditz wondered, echoing Vegeta’s thoughts._

_The other warrior continued to expound on the existence of powerful artifacts that could grant any wish - even bringing souls back from the dead. He taunted Raditz in a condescending tone of finality, delighting in his successful plan of deceit._

_“In the end, Goku will have the last laugh.”_

_An unbearable wrath stormed within Vegeta’s chest on Raditz’s behalf, throat closing around the damned whimper threatening to break free. Those fools dare think they can get away with this, he seethed. They’ve no idea how much Raditz sacrificed to even make the trip to that useless planet. Raditz, you fool! Should have obliviated that Earth-raised weakling the moment he refused._

_After the other’s victory speech was through, a weak chuckle crackled through the feed. The airiness of the laugh told Vegeta he was running out of time._

_“That’s where you’re wrong, green man. This scouter I’m wearing is a transmitter, see. My two comrades - they’ll come - I know they will. I know they will!”_

_Vegeta frowned, as he found himself nodding along with the idiot’s speech. Every agonizing cry the fallen warrior released creating cracks in the barrier he’d hurriedly constructed. Eventually, that wall gave way for their bond to fully grasp Vegeta’s heart within its constricting hold - a crystallized shell of bitterness regenerating in place of the fractured organ. Wish him back, Vegeta scoffed inwardly. To do what, mourn him the next time he dies over foolish sentiment? For a low-class weakling, Raditz often spoke with unfathomable confidence - and Vegeta had taken his word for truth. He’d been convinced that victory would come to him in the form of a coup d’etat with the last remains of his Saiyajin heritage at his flanks. But now Vegeta understood how fantastic of a feat that was._

_Something about Vegeta’s equilibrium suddenly shifted. He was no longer grounded. His subconscious scrambled every which-way, in search of that freshly absconded connection - yet alas, there was but a void where another entity should have occupied. Death had finally severed the bond._

“Vegeta, you okay?” Wariness and concern crept into Goku’s tone, as he stared at Vegeta from above.

Vegeta removed the arm covering his face and slid his gaze up to the other’s. I’m deplorable, was what he had deduced. But instead, he replied, “Of course.”

Struggling to his feet, he staggered to the control panel and shut off the GR.

“Training’s done for the day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk why these have been so angsty lol Part II is definitely coming, though. Please respond to the questionnaire from the previous chapter, when you have time :)

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! Before you hit that back button, why not leave a comment or kudos, if you haven't already. I'd love to hear opinions on anything! The concept, plot, characters, whatever!


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